Stolen Rose
by Jegsy Scarr
Summary: My first ever fanfic! Erik becomes obsessed with Christine after hearing her sing, and decides to take drastic measures to ensure they are together. Modern-day kidnap drama, AU. E/C, as always. Read & review!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there, people!**

**My name is Julie, known online as Jegsy Scarr. This is my first ever fanfic, so be nice!**

**So basically, this is a modern-day kidnap drama, featuring Erik and Christine. It's pretty self explanatory (I hope) as it goes along.**

**Just a heads up, I am from the UK, specifically from Scotland, where the language is slightly different, as you know. I don't mean my story's going to play out:**

**"Christine, ma bonnie lass, dae yae no ken how much ah love ye?"**

**"Away fae me, Erik, ye've a coupon like a skelped bahookie that maks ye want tae boak."**

**- I just mean, the spelling's different, we've got different words for sidewalk, diaper, cell, et cetera - I don't think it'll be a problem, but please don't hesitate to tell me if I'm making no sense whatsoever.**

**So, all that aside, please read and review!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

It had started out like any other Saturday. Christine Daaé had woken to the sound of 'Beautiful' by Belle and Sebastian, her current favourite song and slipped on her pink-and-blue slippers, before sleepily making her way to her en-suite bathroom.

Like any other Saturday. Except this Saturday, everything would change forever.

Outside, in a black Rolls-Royce Phantom parked across the street, sat Erik: the man in the mask who would later that night abduct her from a nightclub.

He was, at present, keeping a close eye on Christine's bedroom window for even a glimpse of her. He was unconcerned about that evening's events: he had thoroughly planned every last detail ensuring that he had everything ready. One thought alone occupied his mind: _Tonight, you will be mine_.

Erik was woken from his reverie by the mobile phone ringing in his pocket. It wasn't a call for him, of course, he himself having no real acquaintances, but one for the Daaé household, due to the equipment he had hooked up to their phone a few months ago; indeed, he could see in a downstairs window the figure of Christine's father, Michael, as he made his way to the machine, looking rather dishevelled. _Poor man_. His appearance was no doubt due to the fact that his wife's anniversary was upon him: twelve years since her death.

The man held the phone to his ear, still watching Christine's window intently.

"_Hello? Michael Daaé speaking?"_

"_Hi, Mr Daaé!" _A shrill, high-pitched voice._ "Is Christine there?"_

_Meg_. Erik froze. _Christine's best friend; is there a change to tonight's plans?_

The man heard Michael's voice, slightly muffled, calling Christine's name, followed by the sound of footsteps as Christine made her way to the phone. Erik smiled as he caught a glimpse of her angelic figure as she passed the window. Now _that _had made his morning.

A stifled yawn. _"Hello?"_

The man smiled. _Even first thing in the morning she sounds so perfect._

"_Sorry, Chris, did I wake you? I suppose 10.00am _is _a bit early for a Saturday…"_

Christine laughed a little, despite her tiredness. _How adorable._ _"It's fine, I was awake. What is it?"_

"_Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you remembered I'm picking you up at quarter-past-eight instead of half-past."_

Outside in the car, the man gave a sigh of relief. For an awful moment, he had thought Meg was calling to say the night out was off: in which case he would have to rethink all of his plans for a later date. He didn't want to wait any longer: he _couldn't _wait any longer. As much as it pained him taking her away from her friends and family (especially now with her father in his present condition), he knew it would kill him if he had to wait even another week.

"_Yeah, I know. Hey, what do you think about my blue dress? Not too formal, is it?"_

"_The one-shouldered thing? No, it's nice. I'm wearing my green one, so it won't look out of place, I guess…"_

Ah, Christine's blue dress. Expertly chosen to complement her eyes. Oh, she _did_ look wonderful in it, although, of course, Erik was sure that his Christine would look beautiful in anything. He slipped back into his thoughts again: _My Christine…_

"…_so I'll see you tonight, then?"_

"_Mm-hm. See you, Chris!"_

The call ended, and he replaced the phone in his pocket before returning his gaze to the house. Glancing up at the downstairs window, he watched as she made her way to the kitchen and back to her room. She was carrying something: breakfast's usual healthy green apple, and…a bag of pretzels. Salsa flavoured, in fact. _Hmm._

It was strange, Erik realised: of all the things he watched her do, it was the most mundane tasks that he enjoyed watching most. Seeing her out shopping with her friends, or at school studying, _or even getting her breakfast, it seems. _Every time he saw her he learned something new about her. It was like revisiting an old friend, no, like seeing a beautiful work of art again for the hundredth time only to see it in a whole new light. _I suppose she _does _look a lot like the Venus de Milo,_ he thought with a grin._ Only with arms, of course._

As he sat there, his mind travelled back to the day he had first met her…

* * *

Christmas-time, a year and a half ago. It was a painful time for someone like him, someone completely alone in the world; no family or friends to speak of. Dreadful time, really. He had been wandering the streets, searching for something to pass the time. He had resolved that, if he could find a bar that wasn't too crowded (crowds he detested with a passion), he would go and drown his sorrows with a bottle of absinthe, or, failing that, he would probably go home and settle into his armchair with a syringe of morphine (he _had _been trying to give it up, but what the hell).

Short of being completely inebriated or in a drugged stupor, he felt there was nothing more he could do to ward off the unbearable feelings of depression and suicide from his mind.

Yes, it was a dreadful time of year. The sight of happy families or children out playing in the streets: there was no time all year that reminded him more of all he didn't have. A slap in the face to reinstate once again the fact about how pitiful and worthless his life really was.

As he searched the town, pulling his coat tightly around him to drive away winter's bitter chill (for it seemed to him that even the weather had turned against him), he had noticed a poster outside a small church, advertising a performance by the local choir. 23rd of December. _Tonight. _He paused. Shrugged. He figured that he might as well watch it. _It might take my mind off things, at least, _he thought. He had nothing better to do, after all, and the ticket price was far cheaper than a bottle of absinthe.

Paying for a ticket, he settled down into the back row of the church hall, where he hoped no one would even notice his mask.

He hadn't been expecting anything special, of course. The choir was made up of around forty or so young people, from about twelve to twenty-one, and a small instrumental ensemble. Some of the songs were well arranged for such an amateur group, he had to admit, but inevitably, there were plenty of incompetent singers. Really, how anyone could let them sing in public was a complete mystery. If he could tell that they had no business singing, and he was sitting in the back row of the church, surely anyone could tell.

He had hardly been paying attention to the next song beginning, when he had heard _her. _His first thought: _An angel? _The man lifted his head to see the soloist. _Was _she an angel?

In front of the rest of the singers, stood a young girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, singing _O Night Divine _with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. _She _was beautiful: long, flowing blonde curls, like honey or molten gold; pale blue eyes the colour of the sea, or the sky, or the rain; rose red lips… He sat in a daze, unable to take his eyes off of the soprano as she sang. He forgot everything else in the world; the horrors of his past, the uncertainties of his future; everything else in the world no longer mattered.

All his life he had wondered how it felt to be in love. Now he knew.

He forced himself to look away from her just long enough to find her name in the programme. _Christine Daaé. _He smiled. _With a name like Christine, she _must _be an angel. _

He knew her name: all he now had to do was find out her address. The violinist in the ensemble, he noted, was also named Daaé. Knowing his name, it was all too easy to find their address listed in the phone book. His obsession for her grew as the weeks went by: he made sure that he never missed a concert featuring her (and there were plenty of them, it being Christmas time).

At first, he conceded that attending her concert was the closest he would ever get to her. It was not enough. One day, when Christine and her father left the house to go shopping, he broke in to their house.

Well, perhaps 'broke in' was the wrong wording to use. The window was open, after all.

He spent hours in there, trying to learn everything he could about her: her friends, her hobbies, her favourite colour – everything.

* * *

And he realised that they were perfect for each other.

No, they were _made _to be together. Soulmates.

But she would never want anything to do with him. If Erik's age didn't deter her (he was almost thirty years her senior), then his face certainly would. No sweet young girl of eighteen would want to be with someone like him. She would never even _consider_ being with someone like him.

So Erik decided to take her. So that they could spend every day together, as they were meant to. Because with time, she would grow to love him. She would realise how perfect they were for each other.

That Saturday night was the date Erik had set.

That night, she would finally be his.

* * *

**Thank you, folks! Read and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys. me again!**

**So, here it is, chapter 2. It's a little rushed, and a little short, but I was dying to get it posted, so please excuse any errors. Next chapter will be better, promise!**

**So far, I've had 123 visitors (whooo!) and 3 reviews. Thank you so much! I LOVE reviews, honestly, so some more would be much appreciated.**

**Anyway, here it is, chapter 2 of Stolen Rose.**

**And to all, lang may your lum reek!**

**(That's an old Scottish saying, which means, long may your chimney smoke, or, in other words, may you have a long and happy life. Feel free to use it with your friends!)**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

**I forgot a disclaimer last time. My bad:**

**I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, the creation of Gaston Leroux, the world's greatest writer of mystery. I do, however, own both a bobblehead ornament of Lon Chaney in Phantom attire, and an Erik plushie!**

* * *

It was ten-past-eight. Christine was debating which necklace to wear from her jewellery stand. She sighed. _How can I have so much jewellery yet have nothing that goes with this dress? _She had meant to go shopping with Meg for new stuff last weekend, but had had to cancel.

It had been one of her father's bad days.

She checked the time. _Crap. _Five minutes before Meg would arrive.

Christine quickly settled for one of her mother's old necklaces and sprayed some perfume on her wrists, before grabbing her bag and rushing downstairs, narrowly avoiding her dad coming up them.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Daddy! Have to rush: Meg'll be here any minute."

Michael sighed. "You girls and your nights out…Know what time you'll be back?"

"Em, well, it won't be any later than twelve…" She faltered. "You've been crying." _Another bad day, then. How could I have not noticed earlier?_

Her father hastily dabbed at his face. "No, honey, I'm fine. Just, your mother, you know…"

"Oh, Daddy…" She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his forehead. _Twelve years already? _Christine had only been six when her mother had died. She could barely remember her, but her father still missed her dearly. _Poor Daddy._ "I don't have to go to this stupid thing; it's just Meg and the girls…"

"Don't be silly, sweetie. Go to your party."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Christine. I just need some time to think on my own." A barefaced lie, of course. _But she shouldn't have to miss her night out because of me._ "Just make sure you're careful. Stick with the girls. Watch your drink. Don't _dare _drink anything other than a Diet Coke or soda water and lime…"

"Don't worry, I won't. You know what Meg's like. She'll make me drive."

"Good. And keep away from any boys. If someone asks you to the backseat of his car…"

She laughed. "Da-ad!"

Michael grinned, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. "Just have fun, okay?"

"I will."

A car horn sounded from outside. Christine smiled at her dad. "I'd better go. See you later!"

"See you, sweetheart." He watched as his daughter stepped into her shoes and skipped through the front door. "Be safe," he whispered, almost under his breath, as his daughter got into the car, and it sped away into the darkness.

* * *

Christine stepped into the tightly packed car, narrowly avoiding standing on another girl's legs. "Wow, Meg, how many people are we picking up?"

"Just Jennifer now. She'll have to sit on someone's lap."

"Great. What, going for the record of how many people you can fit in a Mini?"

"Just be grateful I'm picking you up, Chris."

"Yeah, well if the engine packs in and we all have to walk back, it's your fault. It's only a little car."

"Hey!" Meg patted the dashboard lovingly. "Minnie's only small, but she's strong. Don't pick on her."

Christine rolled her eyes and settled into a seat as best she could. After a quick journey to Jennifer's house, they arrived at the nightclub, courtesy of Meg's careless disregard for speed limits.

"Here we are, girls! Everybody out. And hurry up; I don't want to miss any drinking time!" The other girls sighed. "Now, who'll be the designated driver? Christine?"

"Sure, whatever." _I hope my dad's okay. _

Christine got out of the car and glanced around her. She failed to notice the man in the mask watching her from behind the corner of the building.

She went inside, taking in the surroundings. Her last visit there had been a fortnight ago. As before, it was deafeningly loud, the sound system blaring; mostly rave and trance music, exactly the kind Christine hated. There were far too many people crammed in for her liking, and except from the half-a-dozen or so girls that had came with her, none of them were people she knew. In fact, the only reason any of them came here was because it was free to enter, and no one at the bar fussed about you having ID or not. _Not that I'll be drinking anyway_, she thought to herself, ordering herself a small soda-water and lime from the bar.

_What was the point in coming here? I should be at home._

Erik, however, _loved _the nightclub. Despite the fact it was so crowded, there was plenty right with it, at least for him. No working security cameras except on the front door, too dark for people to notice he was wearing a mask (granted, it wasn't his favourite one, rather a skin-coloured one that he wore to blend in when out in public), _and best of all, it has Christine in it! _As far as he was concerned, any place was wonderful, so long as she was there.

He settled down into a seat in the corner, and quietly observed the group.

He had his plan worked out. All he had to do was wait a while, perhaps wait until the rest of the girls had had a drink or two, _or knowing Meg, three or four_, and be ready for the opportune moment.

* * *

* * *

Christine sighed as she watched her most of her friends making a fool of themselves on the dance floor, while Meg leaned over the bar chatting up the barman. _Yuck. _"I'm going to the bathroom," she told the remaining girls at her table, struggling to make herself heard over the music. "Watch my drink."

Erik glanced up, realising that Christine was leaving. _It's time. _The girls at the table all had a few drinks in them already, but just to be sure…

He casually walked towards the table, fishing in his pocket for a coin. As he neared them, he secretly tossed the coin as hard as he could towards the bar, knocking over a stack of pint-glasses, and sending them shattering to the floor behind the counter.

The girls span around at the noise, sniggering to themselves as the rather confused looking barman stooped to pick up the broken glass (Meg being quick to lend him a hand). Their focus away from the table, it was easy for Erik to quickly pour a sachet of powder into Christine's glass as he walked by. He approached the bar, and whilst the bartender was busy with the shards of glass, swiped the ring of keys from the counter, before returning to his seat. His heart was pounding. He looked at the girls' table again. None of them seemed to have noticed his actions.

He saw Christine returning to the table, and taking a few gulps of her drink.

It would take a few minutes for the sedative to work. Erik had made it himself, of course; he had also tested it several times to make sure it was safe: the last thing that he wanted to do was harm her. Its effect would be fairly gradual, but he could see already that she was looking a little dizzy, and, muttering something to her friends, she rushed back to the bathroom.

Erik waited only a few seconds before following her.

The toilets were through a set of double doors at the back of the nightclub, on either side of the fire exit, each one just a single cubicle. Pressing his ear to the door of Christine's, he listened carefully.

She felt dizzy. It had all happened so suddenly, too. _I feel awful, _she thought, pressing her forehead to the cool glass of the mirror. _Was it something I ate? Something I drank? _She shuddered, mentally cursing herself for trusting her friends with her drink. _Probably picked up a bug or something; this club is hardly the most hygienic of places. _She groaned as she realised she was resting her head against the grimy mirror, and lifted her head away, with some effort. _A _lot _of effort. _Just _standing_ was taking a lot of effort. _Why are my legs tired? _Christine cried out weakly as she felt her legs giving way underneath her, and she collapsed in a heap on the bathroom floor, the effort of just holding herself up too much for her. "Help me," she moaned, in a voice barely over a whisper. "Please God, help me." She tried to reach for the door, but couldn't find the strength. She vaguely heard the music playing in the background before her vision blurred and everything went black.

* * *

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**Dun-dun-duuuuuuuun!**

**To my reviewers: Once again, thank you all so much!**

**Broken-Vow: Thanks for what was my first comment! You're right, it IS the most exciting thing in the world posting a fanfic. I mean, it's just that thought that all your hard work is out there for the world to see, and it's both thrilling and terrifying. Thaks for clearing up the whole compliment/complement issue, which I would otherwise never have noticed. And in answer to your question, I'm trying to base Erik on Leroux's version primarily, but I don't think that's clear yet; hopefully it'll be clearer in the next chapter now that the set up's almost out of the way.**

**Starlyne Zeviar: Thanks for your enthusiasm! Well, there it was. What did you think?**

**StormyNights7: Thank you very much! Erik is very glad to hear that you love him!**

**x x x **


	3. Chapter 3

****

Hi again, people!

**Things have been a little hectic today - I just got my exam results back: seven A's and a B (in Art). Whoo!**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. In it, you'll get to learn a little bit more about Erik's personality (and insanity). Enjoy!**

**I got five reviews for chapter two! Whoo again! So, if you can, spare a moment to review this one - if you like it or not, suggestions, questions, spelling and grammar to be fixed - anything, cause you know I love them!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

**Oh, and I still don't own Phantom of the Opera *cries*.

* * *

**

Outside the door of the bathroom, Erik heard the sound of Christine slumping to the floor. He waited a few more seconds to be sure she was unconscious, before using the swiped keys to unlock the door. He slowly opened the door, making sure he didn't knock Christine's head with it as he did.

It was a sight which shocked him. Seeing his beautiful angel lying in a heap on the floor tiles, and seeing her face, which just minutes ago had been smiling as she spoke with her friends now completely devoid of any expression: oh, how that hurt him. But in his heart he knew that there was no other option.

Erik got down on his knees, carefully sweeping Christine into his arms. The pain he had felt at having done such an awful thing to the woman he loved was gone: now he could only marvel at the fact that he was holding Christine so close to him. _So warm._

For a few seconds he forgot where he was, standing silently in the doorway and just gazing at her face, before remembering that it wasn't over yet. He still had to get her home.

Erik looked around him quickly, checking that no one had seen him, and, leaving the keys in the bathroom door, released the fire exit. The freezing night time air tore at his masked face, and he instinctively covered Christine as best he could with his jacket. He walked almost without thinking to the parked Rolls Royce; he was glad he had rehearsed his plans so thoroughly. Reaching for his keys in his jacket pocket, he unlocked the passenger side door and quickly sat Christine in the seat. Another glance around him to make sure no one was watching, before he got into the driver's side.

He sat for a moment to catch his breath. _I've done it. She's here. She's actually in my car! _He smiled, securing the seatbelt around Christine's unconscious form, checking her pulse and her breathing. "My darling," he whispered softly. "Can you hear me, Christine?" Her head was resting against the window and Erik retrieved a pillow from the back seat, tucking it carefully behind her head, giving her golden curls an affectionate pat.

He spoke, mostly to reassure himself, as he started the engine, and drove out of the car park. "It's okay, my dear. You're safe with your Erik. He won't hurt you, though there are plenty of men who would. So easy it was to take you, too." _Too easy, _he thought.

Suddenly, he had the sickening realisation that _any _man could have taken Christine in the same manner. She was very lucky to have someone like Erik to look after her, someone who could protect her; keep her safe with him forever.

He glanced back at his sleeping beauty. "Would you like some music?" He turned the stereo system on, and selected a CD. "Faust. Or would you prefer one of your favourites? Belle and Sebastian? Muse? La Roux?" He flicked through the CDs in the machine (currently there were five, but there was room for another three), before settling on Jeff Wayne's _War of the Worlds. _"One of my favourites," he said, as Richard Burton's voice sounded from the twenty-eight speakers ( God, how he loved his car). "I'm sure you will like it." Erik looked over at Christine as though to see her response, even though he knew she was fast asleep.

* * *

He was listening to "Forever Autumn" when he heard his phone ringing. Pausing the music, Erik retrieved it from his pocket, and pressed the green button. "Hello?" The phone continued ringing. He froze: in his haste he had momentarily forgotten about the equipment hooked up to the Daaé's phone.

_It's just as well that the Bluetooth's not set up. _This was the last thing he wanted Christine to hear. _This is going to be painful._

A few more rings, before he heard Michael Daaé's voice, sounding rather tired.

"_Hello?"_

"_Michael Daaé?" _A man's voice.

"_Yes. Who…who's calling?"_

"_Mr Daaé, this is Detective Inspector Thomson. I'm calling about your daughter."_

There was a loud clatter, and Erik realized that Michael must have dropped the phone.

"_Hello? Mr Daaé? Hello?"_

Michael reached for the phone. _"Yes, sorry, I'm…I'm here." _His voice was trembling. _"What's happened?"_

"_Can I come round, Mr Daaé, it'd be better to talk to you in person…"_

His heart gave a lurch. _"What's happened!"_

Thomson sighed. This was the worst part of his job. _"Your daughter, Christine, she's went missing."_

Michael didn't drop the phone this time: he clutched it tightly to his chest as he fell to a heap on the wooden floor.

Erik could hear a muffled sobbing, and for a moment considered turning the phone off, but it wouldn't be right. _I've hurt him; I should at least have the decency to listen now._ Despite the guilt it was causing him to feel. He respected Michael: a brilliant violinist, a genuinely kind man, who'd done a wonderful job at raising a daughter on his own. That was his only regret at taking Christine: hurting him so.

_I'm so sorry, _Erik thought, as he heard the man's crying. _I didn't want to hurt you. But she's safe, with me. I promise you: I will look after her._

It took a good few minutes before Michael was able to speak. _"She's…she's went missing? How? When?" _He started sobbing again.

"_It would be easier to explain in person…"_

"_Tell me!" _He yelled down the phone. _This can't be happening…_

"_About half an hour ago. Her friends say she went to the bathroom and never came back."_

"_You…you mean she left? She…just left? Maybe…she was just leaving for home?" _He sounded almost hopeful.

"_I'm sorry, sir. We've found traces of some sort of sedative in her drink…"_

The phone dropped againand Michael began crying out hysterically. _"She's…she's been drugged…someone's…someone's taken her?" _He struggled to get his words out between gasps, and desperately grappled for the phone with his shaking hands. His eyes filled with tears. _"She's…gone?...Someone's taken her…my…Christine…" _Bile rose in his throat and he had to force himself not to vomit. _Christine…Someone's taken her. Someone – some sick bastard's taken my little girl... _He desperately tried not to picture _why _someone would steal his daughter. _"Come over. Quickly," _he choked, in a whisper, before replacing the phone in its cradle, and collapsing onto the sofa, weeping and praying…as he had last done twelve years before. _Please come back, sweetie. Please, God, bring her back. _

* * *

Erik sighed, putting his mobile back in his pocket. _Painful, but necessary. _He glanced at Christine, switching the CD player back on. "I'm sorry, my dear," he told Christine, who was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the chaos going on around her. "But you're with me now, my angel, forever. You'll be home with Erik soon enough. You'll be looked after, I promise. And happy. Just you and me. _Forever_. Hmm?" He smiled, his hand reaching over to brush a curl from her face.

It was a long drive, but Erik didn't feel at all tired by the end of it. It was _exhilarating _knowing that Christine was with him at last. Almost eight hours and six CDs later, he turned into a driveway outside a house. "We're here, my angel. Your new home." He carefully unbuckled Christine's seatbelt, and lifted her out of the car.

The house was huge, a large Victorian-style mansion. The early morning sun illuminated the brickwork and the ornamental statues making them shine like gold, giving a real feeling of grandeur to the place. Erik was very proud of his house, and made no attempt to hide this from Christine. He was many things, but he was not particularly modest.

"See, sweetheart? Erik built this house himself. It's beautiful, hmm? See the way the light catches the statue on the roof? That's Apollo, and his lyre. Perhaps one morning, I'll take you to see the gardens; I bet you didn't know we had a whole lake to ourselves, did you? When the sunlight catches it in the morning, it makes the water look like it's on fire. Can you imagine, Christine?"

He looked back at the sleeping girl as he walked, wishing he could hear her response.

"But the best thing about Erik's house, about _our _house, Christine? It's hidden away from the world. No one could ever find us here. No one knows that this house even exists! We're safe here, my dear, on our own. Just you and me."

He stepped inside, carefully locking the door behind him. For a moment he stood in the foyer, as though to let Christine look around, before making his way up the staircase. "Your room is up here, sweetheart. You'll have your own room, of course."

He opened the door to a large room, turning the light on. Carefully, he laid Christine on the bed. She was still completely lifeless; he'd had to give her a lot of sedatives to be sure she didn't wake on the journey. "There, my dear, just sleep now," he said gently, as he carefully undid her shoes. "Just sleep now." He reached around her neck, undoing the clasp of her necklace and setting it carefully on the bedside table. He thought for a second about dressing her into a nightgown so she would be more comfortable, but quickly dismissed the idea. _I couldn't intrude on her privacy like that. And what would she think of me when she woke up?_ His hand gently brushed her hair, and he tucked the soft duvet around her.

"Sleep, my angel. When you wake, I'll show you around the house, hmm?" Erik checked his watch: it would still be a good few hours before she woke, and even then, she would probably want to rest a little longer. He settled into a chair at the foot of her bed, and waited patiently.

* * *

Eight more hours went by, before Erik saw the first signs of Christine coming round. She stirred very slightly, but didn't seem to be waking yet. He checked the time. "I'll be back in a moment, my dear," he whispered. Downstairs he switched the television on and turned to a news program. _What are they saying about me? _he wondered. He watched for a few minutes; a report about the war, the new government's agenda, before the presenter introduced a story about Christine.

He quickly turned the volume up. There was nothing particularly interesting to be learned; he was already aware the police knew about the sedatives. What _was _interesting was that they seemed to have no idea as to who had taken her.

"_No witnesses have come forward as of yet," _said a policeman (whose voice Erik recognised as that of Detective Inspector Thomson), _"but we remain hopeful. As the nightclub had no working surveillance cameras" _Erik smiled at this, _"and no members of staff have reported seeing anything unusual…"_

Erik sighed, as the man continued talking about DNA and fingerprints being searched for. He wasn't at all concerned. Despite the countless murders he had committed in his life (he wasn't _proud _of them, no, but they had happened) he had always been careful never to leave a trace of himself behind.

The Punjab lasso didn't leave fingerprints.

So, nothing for him to worry about. Erik was about to turn the television off, when he saw Michael Daaé appear on screen, standing with some police officers.

"_Please, someone out there knows where my daughter is."_ He was no longer crying, although his eyes were red with tears, and his voice was shaking, threatening to go at any moment. _"She's…she's just a little girl. Please, whoever you are, bring her back home."_

Erik stood for a moment, watching the screen. "She _is _home," he answered softly, before turning the television off, and going back up to Christine's room.

* * *

**So, what do you think? Read and review!**

**Kali Rose: Glad I made you laugh - I figured it was the kind of thing Erik would think! Yes, he's a bit old, but he is quite old in Leroux's novel (poor dear's had a lifetime of suffering).**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Hey, thanks!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: (Great name, by the way) Thanks a lot! I'll update as soon as I can!**

**Etoile du Bolshoi: *chuckles* Yeah, Scots is pretty funny that way! You understood it? So, to answer your question, this is full-mask Leroux's Erik - I figured a black one for at home, but a skin coloured one for out-and-about where he needs to blend in (and perhaps a rainbow glitter one for nights out at the disco?)**

**mirifaery: Thanks, I've tried to keep him in character the best I can. Well, hope that's answered your question about the third-person thing. About the bobblehead and plushie thing, I'll post some links on my profile for you (and anyone else reading who's wondering).**

**x x x x x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi again!**

**So, here we are, chapter four. It's a little short, but it just felt like a good place to finish. I'll post the next chapter soon as, okay?**

**So, I wanted to try something with this one one. See, I figured that the whole scene where Christine wakes up can only have 3 or so scenarios. No.1, Christine wakes up and is so petrified that she stays silent. Em, I can't make that very interesting. No.2, she wakes up and is scared, but also very angry and screams and shouts abuse at Erik. I was going to go with that at first, but I'll save it for the next scene. Or, No.3, she wakes up and is absolutely hysterical. I don't think I've ever seen anyone write it like that before, so I thought I'd have a go. Tell me how it turns out!**

**In the first paragraph, you will notice various bits of different songs. Therefore, I recommend that you listen to them either before or after reading this in order to understand what was going through Christine's mind. (Well, actually, listen to them just because they're great songs!) - "The Eve of the War" and "Forever Autumn" from Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds, "Beautiful" and "Expectations" by Belle and Sebastian, "Hysteria" by Muse, and "In For the Kill" by La Roux.**

**Enjoy! And review! **

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

**I still don't own Phantom of the Opera. But I do own at least five copies of the book.**

* * *

Chapter Four

Noises in the darkness.

_like the sun through the trees _/ krrisssteeen… / _the chances of anything _/ my angel… / _they let Lisa go blind _/ can you imagine…krrisssteeen / _give me your heart and your soul _/ we're here / _going in for the kill _/ erreeek built this house himself…you know / _you're on top of the world again _/ just sleep now / _forever autumn…_

Christine gave a slight moan, and opened her eyes. Her head ached, swimming with confusing and rather disjointed ideas. Her eyes were having trouble seeing: for a few seconds she wasn't even sure she had opened them. _What happened? I…I was at the party, wasn't I?_

Perhaps she was drunk. For the first time ever. Perhaps she had had a few drinks after all, and this was how it felt to be drunk.

In her hazy state, the most absurd idea crossed her mind: _I can't be drunk! I'm the designated driver!_

_Or maybe…_a terrifying thought occurred to her. _Maybe that's it. I was drunk and I drove us home, and we crashed, and now I'm dead._

So this was what heaven was like. Darkness and an achy head. _Although, I think I heard an angel somewhere…_

Her eyes eventually started working again. All she could see was white swirls in front of her eyes. _Clouds? _She tried to focus. _No, not clouds. It sort of looks like my bedroom ceiling…_

She tried to move, but managed at first only to twitch a little. But that was okay, because now she could feel the duvet tucked around her, and the soft, fluffy pillow supporting her head. So she knew she was safe in her bedroom at home. _My dad is going to be _so _angry with me for getting drunk. He probably had to pick us all up at like, two in the morning…_

"You're awake."

Christine started. She forced herself to sit up in bed, and by some miracle, succeeded. Her mind paid the price though, and she felt her vision blurring again.

"Careful now. You're still awfully drowsy."

There it was, that voice again. An angel, she had thought.

_Except, I'm at home, amn't I? In my room…_

She screwed up her eyes, managing to make out a dark shape perched at the foot of her bed. She spoke, her voice cracking as she did. "Daddy?"

"It's all right my dear," the angel's voice continued. "You're safe."

Her throat hurt like hell. "Where…where's my dad?"

"He's fine, Christine, I promise."

She could see again. For a moment, she thought her eyes were deceiving her, but no.

There was a stranger sitting at the end of her bed; middle-aged, perhaps, and impossibly thin.

A man in a mask.

Christine gasped. "You…you're not my daddy," she choked stupidly.

The man sighed. "No."

"What are you doing in my…" Something clicked. _This isn't my room…_

Christine tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her brain was working frantically. _This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This _has _to be a dream._

He was coming towards her. "It's all right, my dear. You are in no danger."

"No! No, don't! Who are you?"

The strange man stopped, kneeling at her side, far too close for comfort. "Forgive me, Christine. My name is Erik."

She shuddered slightly. _That's one name that I'm never, _ever _going to forget. _"Why…why'd…what…am I…I…"

Erik smiled a little, although Christine couldn't see it under his mask. "It's all right," he repeated softly. "Hush, my dear. Hush."

_God, that voice. _She couldn't believe she'd actually mistaken it for an angel's. "Why…am I here?" she finally managed to stammer.

Erik's smile widened. "I _brought _you here, Christine. To my home. _Our _home." He hesitated, but only for a moment. "I love you."

Christine shrieked, hurriedly moving to the other side of the bed. _Oh my God…I'm in the same room as a madman who's obsessed with me…Has he…_She forced herself to look under the covers, terrified of what she might find. Pain? Blood? Although she couldn't see any obvious signs…

Erik frowned. _What is she…no…she couldn't think _that_?_ _Oh, she _does_… _"I haven't…" – he couldn't even get the word out – "…hurt you. He felt his heart breaking. _It isn't supposed to happen like this…_He had planned all of this so thoroughly: he would take her home, yes, she would be a little frightened at first, but only until he had introduced himself. Only until he had explained that he loved her, that he would do anything for her. _Do I frighten her so?_

She was hysterical now. Erik felt tears welling up in his amber eyes as he desperately tried to calm her. "It's _okay_, my darling. I won't hurt you. I would never let anything happen to you."

It wasn't working. Christine hurriedly hid under the duvet, chiding herself as she did. _Wonderful, Christine. He won't be able to hurt you if you hide under the covers. _But it was that childish belief, wasn't it, the one you had ever since you were first afraid of the monsters under your bed. Back when you believed that by covering your eyes you could make yourself invisible. _Back when my Mummy and Daddy would tuck me in, and read me stories, and, and sing to me. _

Christine was crying so hard that she was having trouble breathing.

_Oh, God. _"Christine, please," Erik cried, trying desperately to calm her down. "I won't hurt you…" He reached out to touch her shoulder.

Christine gave a shriek and lashed out at him instinctively, knocking his hand away. Hard. Panic rose up inside her. _I just hit him. Some madman has kidnapped me, and I just hit him. _"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She wrapped her arms around her head, repeating her words over and over again. _He's going to kill me now._

Erik failed to stop the tears cascading down inside his mask. He fought to keep his voice steady. "I won't hurt you, Christine. I _love _you." He paused, racking his brain for something, _anything _he could say that would calm her down. He sighed sadly, stepping away from his angel and towards her bedroom door. "I'll leave you alone for a while, hmm? I'll bring you up some lunch later."

He closed the door behind him, locking it quietly as he did. He waited a few minutes, listening as Christine's crying subsided and he was certain that she was okay.

Then he went through to his own room and wept.

* * *

**Short. But meaningful (hopefully).**

**Thank you SO much everyone who reviewed last time! I got LOADS, and I still want more! If I keep getting more, it's going to be really hard to reply to them all, but oh well, c'est la vie. I'm not complaining!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Well, that's what happened! What did you think?**

**xMusicGurlx: Thanks! And okay, I will update!**

**Etoile du Bolshoi: Yeah, not particularly pleasant conversations, unfortunately. But she'll stop panicking soon. (saturday night fever)**

**Kali Rose: Yeah, Erik's mind is a little unhinged, isn't it? But you're right, he needs more hugs. Hmm, maids. Hadn't really thought about it. To be honest, you know what Erik's like; putting on a big show about being a ghost, pretending his lady needs a footstool when he just wants one for himself: I figure, his house is the same. Easy to keep clean because he never uses any of the rooms. Just one big act of showing off to tell everyone how talented he is at building big houses.**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Aw, Erik's not evil! He's just...just...socially challenged, that's all.**

**ThePhantomsFlutist: Aw, thanks! You're right, it IS a creepy story! Sorry, I'm a sucker for romance fluff, but don't worry, she ain't gonna be fallin' for him that easily. (How dare you! Erik IS sexy! In his...own way...yeah. He needs to be loved. He's not some Adonis like Gerard Butler makes him out to be, but he's...em...sweet...)**

**Ivory Wolf: Yeah, I figured that he'd respect him just for his musical talents. But he's someone that Christine really loves, so Erik knows that he must be a good guy. But he still feels like his needs come first, so...there's SOME sympathy, but it only goes so far.**

**mirifaery: Hey, thanks! I'm glad you like his insanity.**

**Me: Em, thanks!**

**x x x x x x x x x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey again, guys! Em, sorry, I know it's been a while, writer's block, you know. But here it is, chapter 5. Enjoy!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

**Gaston Leroux still owns Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in 1910, and which Andrew Lloyd Webber ruined in 2010 with a certain monstrosity of a musical.**

* * *

For a while she lay unable to move, unable to cry. Realisation was dawning on her, but slowly.

For the first few moments she was terrified of Erik's return, so sure that at any moment he would come back to hurt her. Kill her – or worse.

That notion passed as the minutes went by with no sign of him returning. When Christine was certain that he wasn't coming back, she relaxed a little.

_This has to be a dream. Has to be. If I close my eyes long enough…_She burst into tears. _Oh, come on, Christine, face facts! You're not dreaming anymore. This is real. _

She dried her eyes with the hem of her dress and took a deep breath. If she just thought about this logically…maybe she could think of something to get her out of there. She tried to collect her thoughts.

_Okay, so what do I know? Last night…_She paused. _Was _it last night? How long had she been asleep? _Not that it matters anyway. Last night, my drink was spiked, and now I've been kidnapped. _She laughed darkly. The whole idea sounded absurd. _Some insane guy's took me someplace. I don't know where, and I doubt he'll tell me. I don't know why…_Well, she _did _know why. _Because he loves me. So he says. That's the scariest thing…_ She started crying again. All this thinking didn't seem to be doing any good.

Perhaps she should concentrate on something else. Leaving her bed, she examined her prison.

As much as it pained her to think it, she had to admit the room was pretty. Light pinks and blues, much like her room at home. _That's unsettling. _The carpet was soft and fluffy. Christine looked around the room.

Everything had clearly been selected specifically for her. There were shelves filled with her favourite books against the wall, stacks of her favourite CDs, even a bottle of the expensive perfume she had always wanted sitting on top of her dressing table.

She opened the wardrobe. Dresses, t-shirts, trousers, skirts_, _shoes: all in her size. _How does he know what size clothes I take? _Everything looked as though it would fit her perfectly; from the floral summer dresses, to, most worryingly, her underwear… _Does that mean he's been…watching me?_ Just what kind of madman was she was dealing with?

_I need to wash. _Just the thought of how much he knew made her feel dirty.

She was more than a little relieved to find that the door to the en suite bathroom could be locked from the inside, giving her some privacy at least. As like the bedroom, the room was very pretty. Again, it seemed like Erik had been sure to cater to Christine's every need. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, sanitary towels (at this she blushed furiously), soaps, shampoos: the more she looked around, the more she became, well, freaked out, to say the least. She locked the bathroom door and ran herself a hot bath.

_As long as I'm here, I'm not safe. The way he looked at me, the way he spoke about loving me: he's completely insane, clearly. But he didn't hurt me, even when I lashed out at him. Maybe, as long as I watch my step, be careful what I say, I'll be safe…I hope._

Christine emptied the bath, drying herself with a blue fluffy towel, and changed into a dressing gown. She rummaged in the wardrobe, settling on a pair of jeans and the most unrevealing t-shirt she could find. She didn't bother with make up, on the grounds that she didn't want Erik to think she was making an effort for him.

The knock on the door startled her. _Oh, God… _Panic flooded her body.

"Christine? Can I come in?"

She hesitated. _Come on, Christine, you _have _to do this. You need to gain his trust. It's your only way out…_ "Y…yes, come in."

She heard the door unlock and forced herself to smile as Erik opened the door. "Ah, you're up and dressed." _She seems okay now… _"Everything in your room is to your liking?"

She nodded, trying not to meet his eyes.

_Poor dear, she's still afraid of me… _"I…was wondering if you'd like to join Erik for some lunch downstairs?"

_To be honest, Erik, short of someone pulling out all of my fingernails one by one, there's nothing in the world I'd like to do less than joining you for lunch…_ "Em, okay."

_Yes! _He couldn't hold back his smile. "And afterwards, if you'd like, I could give you a tour of the house?" He hesitantly held out his hand to her.

"Okay," she said softly. She took his hand, but instinctively recoiled back when she felt his touch again: ice cold and skeletal. _Way to go, Christine, great start in gaining his trust._

"Forgive me!" he gasped, quickly offering her his arm instead, which she hurriedly took. _I had forgotten how much I repulse people. _He led her from the room, talking as they walked.

"Just down the staircase, Christine. That's it. Erik built this house himself, you know."

Christine looked around her, genuinely awestruck. _He _built _this? _There were high ceilings and shiny polished floors: there was a certain air of royalty to the place. Even now they were descending down a marble staircase that could only be described as spectacular.

"This place is amazing," she breathed. "It's like a palace."

"Well I _have _built palaces before, my angel" he grinned. Christine couldn't decide if he was telling the truth or not. She looked up at the ceiling, watching the crystal chandelier as it scattered the afternoon sunlight around the foyer.

"It's all very pretty." As much as she hated to admit it, Erik was clearly a genius. "Can…can I ask you something?"

"In a moment, my dear, once you've had your lunch, then Erik will answer all your questions."

_There's that 'Erik' again. That can't be a sign of anything good. _Christine followed him through to a large kitchen and dining room. She noticed that the mahogany dining table had only been set for one.

"Sit down, please." He pulled a chair out from the table, and she sat down. He sat in the chair opposite her. "You must be hungry." She was. She hastily tucked into her lunch: prawns, chicken wings and a green salad.

"Tokay?" He held up a bottle of an amber-coloured wine.

"I…I've never tried it before."

"I'm sure you'll like it" he said, pouring a small amount into her glass. "Honey and apricot. Sunshine in a glass. You wanted to ask me something?"

"Aren't you eating anything?" she asked, sipping at the Tokay. It was rather disturbing that she was being watched by him as she ate, like a bird in a cage.

She heard Erik laugh. _He's got a beautiful laugh, _she thought, before she could stop herself.

"No, my dear, I'm not hungry." Although Christine failed to see how anyone so thin could possibly _not _be hungry. "Is that all you wanted to ask me?"

She thought how best to phrase the question, a little worried about angering him. _I don't _think _he would hurt me; he's been nice so far… _"Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought I made it clear before, that I love you."

A shiver ran down her spine. "But why me? And why did you have to bring me here?"

"I head your voice one night, and I fell in love with you. I was alone, and your voice brought me comfort. I couldn't stop thinking about you; I had to be with you. As for whyI brought you here: we could never have met on ordinary terms."

Christine was puzzled. "Why not?" Although, she couldn't imagine wanting to meet or go out with a guy as old as him.

He sighed sadly, as though something was hurting him. He looked down at the table. "It isn't obvious to you?"

She hesitated. "Your…your mask?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "Mm-hm" he murmured softly.

"Oh." What else could she say? "Why do you wear it?"

"It doesn't matter." He quickly changed the subject. "Would you like some dessert, my dear?"

_My dear. _"No, I'm fine." As curious as she was, she wasn't brave enough to press the matter further. "Your cooking was lovely."

"Thank you, Christine. Perhaps you'd like that tour of the house now?" He offered her his arm again. She couldn't understand how a man so kind and polite could be the same one who had taken her to his home against her will.

He led her through to a large sitting room. Rich burgundy and cream coloured décor, comfy looking sofas and antique furniture. Bookcases filled with books, some about architecture, travel and languages, but the majority appeared to be about music. There were shelves full of CDs everywhere, and an impressive looking stereo system, as well as a record player. _I take it he likes music, then._

"The sitting room. As with the kitchen, feel free to come down here if you ever need anything."

Christine gazed out of the window at the surroundings outside. They were in the middle of nowhere; lots of land and a huge garden, but she couldn't see any other houses, and the view went on for miles. _Oh my God. I really am alone with him. How will anyone ever find me? _

He guided her through the other rooms downstairs, but she couldn't get that thought out of her head. Up until now, she had been kidding herself that she could escape from him somehow, run away and get help. Now she knew that it was completely hopeless.

Erik led her back upstairs. She noticed several rooms along the corridor, and wondered what on earth they were all for. _I doubt he has many guests visiting him. _She eyed what appeared to be the largest room.

"And this," he said, gesturing towards the door, "is my bedroom and study. This is the only room I would ask you not to enter without my permission." He stood to one side, and she cautiously opened the door.

The room was completely different to what she had been expecting. The room was not decorated in rich, luxurious colours like the others had all been. The whole room was furnished in shades of black. She looked around. There was a piano in one corner of the room, a violin propped against a music stand (a feeling of sadness came over her at this, as she thought of her father), piles of hand-written music scattered on a desk, a golden harp, a coffin, a flute sitting on the mantelpiece…

She did a double-take, rubbing her eyes. No, there was definitely a coffin in the middle of the bedroom, under a curtain. _Okay, so I was right about him being completely and utterly mad, then. _"You…sleep there?"

"I do." He spoke matter-of-factly. "After all, one should get used to these things. In the end, I will have to spend an eternity there."

She shuddered, turning white. Erik looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right, my dear? You're awfully pale."

"I'm…fine. I'm a little tired, I guess."

"Of course." He led her outside into the corridor. "The sedative may not have worn off completely yet. Perhaps it's best for you to rest now."

Christine nodded hastily. Anything to get away from him. _That's enough trust-gaining for one day. He's scary. _

Erik opened the door for her and she stepped back into her room.

"Tomorrow, if you're up to it, I thought maybe I could give you some singing lessons."

_What? That's just weird. I can't stand all this weirdness. _"Em, actually…" _Here goes. Maybe it'll work… _"I was…kind of hoping that I could go home soon."

Erik looked at her oddly, as if he'd never heard the word before. "Home?"

"I mean, I like it here," she babbled nervously. "But…I can't stay here. I need to go home."

"But you _are _home, my dear. This is your new home."

She felt tears welling up. "Please? My daddy needs me." She spoke in a whisper.

"Don't you see? _I _need you." He was close to crying too. "I need you to be with me."

_What should I say?_ She tried to reason with him."If you let me go, I'll…I'll come and visit you. Every week."

Erik smiled. "If I keep you here, I can see you every _day_."

"I don't love you."

"I know. But you will learn to love me with time. I know it."

"You don't know me!" She was angry now. She wanted to leave, she wanted her father, and she really didn't care if she made him mad anymore. "I don't love you! I never will! How could I love someone like you? You're a monster!"

She tried to close the bedroom door, but she felt his thin, bony fingers closing tightly around her arm. She shrieked as Erik pulled her towards him so that she was mere inches away from his masked face, staring into his piercing amber eyes. "Listen to me, Christine," he hissed. "You are never leaving this house, do you understand? You _will _learn to love me with time. I've waited so long to be with you. And I'm never giving you up. Never!"

He sighed, managing to compose himself a little. "Now, my angel. Get some rest." He stroked her face gently, before closing the door of her bedroom, leaving her sobbing and shaking in the darkness.

* * *

**Scary Erik! So, what did you think? Read and review!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Yeah, he is a bit of an idiot. Poor guy.**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Thank you!**

**Kali Rose: Yeah, Erik doesn't mean any harm. He's in love, is all. Makes you do weird things. **

**AmbraZayn: Oh, yay! Thanks! Glad you like it so far!**

**KatenHaarath: Thanks! Well, as we all know, a duvet is the best protection in the world from kidnappers, chainsaw weilding maniacs, monsters, ghosts... the list goes on.**

**05: *laughs* Well, you'll just have to wait and see! And yes, I'm well aware that your name is not just 05, but document manager is REFUSING TO WORK PROPERLY and keeps cutting part of your name off for no reason whatsoever that I can think of. Anyone have any suggestions?)**

**Pipotchi: Aw! I'm sorry! But I'm glad you liked it anyway!**

**Starlyne Zeviar: Yeah, first impressions can be tough. Although, his second impression hasn't turned out so well either...**

**EmmanuelleG: Thanks! Well, there was the update. So what did you think?**

**x x x x x x x x x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi again!**

**Okay, new chapter! I'm back at school now (unfortunately), so I've no idea how often I'll be able to update, but I'll do my best.**

**Keep those reviews coming!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

**The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux. If it belonged to me, I'd be living the high life. If it was a true story, I'd still be living the high life, with Erik.**

* * *

_It isn't supposed to be like this._

That was what he kept telling himself as he paced around his room, cursing himself with every breath he took. _She's scared of me. I wanted her to love me, and trust me. I tried so hard…_

He sighed. _It's your own fault, Erik. Frightening the poor girl. And just when she was starting to feel she could trust you. _

_It was all going so well…She was afraid of me at first; I had expected that, but this afternoon when I checked on her, she seemed…fine. She even joined me for lunch. She came with me on a tour of the house…_

_And then you blew it, didn't you? You couldn't control that temper of yours, scared her, hurt her dear little arm…_

He started to cry and had to take his mask off. _I'll make it up to her. I'll never frighten her again. And then she'll want to love me, when she realises how I can be, how I care about her…_

_She'll never trust you again. You were a fool to believe that she could ever love you; no one ever will…_

_Stop it…_

…_because you're a monster. A freak. And no one has ever loved you. Even your own mother hated you…_

"Stop it!"

Erik's voice echoed around the room, breaking the night's silence. With a trembling hand he wiped the tears from his eyes, as he contemplated what to do next. He could see it now, Christine's beautiful face, contorted with fear. That image just wouldn't go away. Maybe it would never go away.

But he could make it go away. Even if only for a few hours…

_No. I can't…Not now. I promised I'd give it up for her…_

_She doesn't have to find out. _The Voice was back. And it was awfully persuasive…

* * *

He replaced the syringe in the bathroom cupboard, _where it would stay_, and cleaned a streak of blood from his forearm. _Last time, _he promised. _I'm giving it up. For Christine._

Now to focus on his real problem. What to do (he checked the clock, _now? God, that was a fast few hours_) about Christine.

"I'll make it up to her," he whispered softly. "Somehow. And then she'll love me."

* * *

Erik knocked on Christine's door, balancing a tray of food on his arm. "Christine," he called, his ear close to the door to hear her reply. "Are you alright, my angel? Can I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, which frightened him, before he heard her answering. He opened the door.

She was sitting on her bed, looking up at him warily as he walked towards her, as though he would hurt her at any moment.

"Christine…Are you alright?" he repeated softly, setting the tray down beside her bed.

Christine said nothing.

"I…I brought you some breakfast," he began, gesturing to the tray in case she hadn't noticed.

She didn't reply.

"In case you were hungry?" he questioned, his voice trembling a little. "Hmm? Just…just some scrambled eggs and toast, and…and some cereal, and an apple, and…" He looked at her, desperately for a reply. "And…some pretzels?"

He broke down and kneeled in a sobbing heap at her feet. "Please, Christine," he gasped between sobs. "Erik didn't mean to hurt you, to frighten you. He just…loses his temper sometimes. Please, Christine. F…forgive me."

She looked away. _What am I supposed to do? _His sobs were getting louder and his pleas for forgiveness more and more desperate. _I'm never getting out of here. I might as well forgive him. What's the point in keeping a grudge with a madman? _But most of all, she just couldn't bear the sound of his tears. She had never heard anything so sad.

"It's okay…Erik." The name sounded strange, and she realised that she'd never spoken it aloud up until then. "I forgive you."

He raised his masked face to look at her. "You do?" he asked in a whisper.

She nodded slightly, closing her eyes.

"My darling…" He took her hands in his, covering them with kisses through his mask. "Thank you. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Their eyes met for a moment. Christine had thought that they were impossible to see unless he was angry. But she could see them now, if she only looked closely. _They look so…lonely._

Erik coughed nervously, rising to his feet. "I'll leave you to eat breakfast, hmm? Before it gets cold." He paused. "You…still want to sing with me?"

Christine nodded.

"Come down when you're ready, then."

She smiled as convincingly as she could as he left the room, even though she felt as though her heart was breaking.

"_You are never leaving this house, do you understand? You will learn to love me with time. I've waited so long to be with you. And I'm never giving you up. Never!" _

She sighed sadly as she began to pick at her food. This was it. This was her life now. She'd had so many hopes, so many dreams. She was going to go to college, get a job singing on stage, be famous and successful, buy her own house in the city, get married, have lots of cute little kids, perhaps a cat…

She would never get to do any of those things now. She'd never see her daddy or her friends again. She would spend the rest of her life in this house, with some insane guy old enough to be her father; she'd live her whole life being afraid of him, afraid to speak, afraid to do anything that could make him angry; she'd live, but it wouldn't be _living_. More like just _existing_.

She finished eating, tried her best to swallow the lump in her throat, and went downstairs to join her captor.

"What would you like to sing, my dear?"

"I…don't know. Something…pretty."

_Oh, Christine. Anything you sing will sound pretty. _"Fauré's 'Pie Jesu'?"

"Okay."

"Shall I accompany you?" He'd brought the harp downstairs with him. He'd considered bringing his violin, but…better not to remind her of him.

"Please." Christine stepped back, clearing her throat. Despite these unusual circumstances, she was determined to sing as well as she could.

Erik began the introduction. _At last! I get to hear her sing again…only this time, just for me…_

"_Pie Jesu Domine,_

_Dona eis requiem,_

_Dona eis requiem"_

Christine sang, putting everything she had into the words. If she closed her eyes, she could escape from the house, she could sing on stage as she had always loved to do, as she would never do again.

"_Pie Jesu Domine,_

_Dona eis requiem,_

_Dona eis requiem"_

She looked so beautiful when she sang. Even more beautiful than the day he had first met her. _And she's mine. We'll be together forever. She can sing for me every day._

"_Dona eis Domine_

_Dona eis requiem_

_Sempeternam requiem_

_Sempeternam requiem_

_Sempeternam requiem_

_Pie Jesu_

_Pie Jesu Domi…"_

Her voice went as she reached for the high note, making her blush furiously.

Erik smiled. "That's alright, Christine." _My little angel… _"Take a break. You've worked hard."

She slumped into the sofa, strangely angry with herself. She had wanted to sing perfectly, even if she was only singing to Erik.

"Would you like Erik to play you something? Or sing perhaps?"

_He sings? _Christine was intrigued. "Yes, please. If…if you don't mind?"

"Not at all, my dear." _Anything for her. _

He sang through the piece faultlessly, as Christine watched in awe. _He can sing! _She couldn't bring herself to look away as Erik sang, or to think of anything other than his celestial voice. It was…_hypnotic_, it captivated her soul like nothing else on Earth ever had. And every word, every note sounded as though it had been written for him. For him to sing for her alone. She didn't understand how any human voice could sound as his did. He sang with so much passion, it scared her.

_Who is he?_

She walked towards him as if in a trance. She…she had to know who he was. She couldn't spend the rest of her life not knowing.

Erik glanced down at her as she came towards him. _She's...walking towards me? She wants to be near me?_ He opened his arms to her slightly, silently revelling as she entered into his embrace.

"Oh, Christine…" He held her to himself as tightly as he could, tears flowing down his face as he did. "My angel…" He buried his face in her golden curls.

Christine rested her head on his thin chest, closing her eyes. She didn't want to think about anything else, just about the wonderful moment she was enjoying. She was being held and comforted by someone who loved her, someone who cared about her, who promised to make everything perfect for her…

She opened her eyes with a start. _What am I doing? _

She untangled herself from her abductor and escaped to her room.

* * *

**Oh dear. Anyway, read and review!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Thanks!**

**Kali Rose: Ha! Of all things to worry about! Yeah, we can drink at 18! (don't know why I'm boasting, the Scots aren't exactly famous for drinking responsibly. But anyway...) Yeah, I think they tend to follow that pattern because that's sort of how it went in the book, I suppose. But hopefully this will be different in the end, but I won't give too much away...**

**green-eyed-owl: Yes, spot on! Thanks for the review!**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Hey, thanks for the suggestion! I'll keep that in mind!**

**EmmanuelleG: I know, Erik can be so creepy! But don't we all love him for it?**

**mirifaery: Aw, thanks! I'm glad you think I've captured him right...Hang on, you'll have your army of Eriks Punjab me? Can...can they do that? Does that mean I need to write, like, a hundred fanfics to build up a defence?**

**Rainbow-Says-Rawr: Thanks! Unmasking scene is coming up, not too sure when, but you've gotta have it. I've no idea what he expected: he's good at planning stuff, just not people.**

**Anonymous: Thanks! I've always loved scary Erik...**

**Firelily: Yeah, I'm trying to make her as realistic as possible. How do you all think I'm doing so far?**

**x x x x x x x x x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi again!**

**Em, yeah, I know it's been a while. School is evil. Homework is evil. I also have an English essay to do. Fun.**

**On the plus side, my copy of Phantom of the Opera with Lowell Bair's translation just arrived. Yay! Even more Phantom of the Opera than the TdM translation. And lots of great lines:**

**"I'm going to have the coffin enlarged, Christine, for later, when we've come to the end of our love."**

**How Eriky is that? (not to mention creepy)**

**Also, 3rd book in The Hunger Games is out. Excellent series to those who haven't read it.**

**Anyway, I've noticed that although I'm getting lots of reviews (thank you all so much!) they generally come from the same people. So all of you out there who haven't reviewed, PLEASE, leave a review, even a few words, because it would mean a lot to me, and I'd love to know what you all think.**

**So, here it is, chapter seven.**

**And, here's a little quiz question, for the chance to win a special shoutout (okay, not much of a prize, I know, but still...) Why is it impossible for Erik to have read Under the Dome without there being a huge rift in the fabric of the universe? You'll have to read the book pretty thoroughly, but if you have already read it, you will have noticed it and have done a little phangirl or phanguy squeal of delight. Also happens in the first few chapters of The Shining.**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

**Still don't own Phantom of the Opera. Wish I did. But you can't have everything I guess. Or I would have a luxurious mansion and a pet dragon. And Erik.**

* * *

_Hmm. What next?_

Christine looked through her bookcase again, wondering what to read.

She hadn't left her room in five days, and she was running out of things to do.

_I've read all the books here, _she thought worriedly. _When I've run out of books to read…_

Then she'd have to go downstairs to the library to get another, and she really didn't want to face Erik.

_I'll read 'The Merchant of Venice' again. _She picked up the book and started flicking through it. _That Shylock's a crafty character…_

She threw the book onto the floor with a groan. _Okay, this is just sad. I can't stay in here forever. I have to be with _someone_, even if that someone is Erik. It's so lonely in here…_

She had never missed her friends or her father more. Right now, she would have done anything just to be back with them.

Plus, she was, quite frankly, worried about her sanity. She had never been so alone in her life. And she'd never realised before now just how much she needed other people, just to sit with or to talk with.

_I need a hug._

What a weird thing to think. It made her sound eight, not eighteen. _But it's true._ _And I have to face Erik sometime…_

With a soft sigh, Christine made her way downstairs to the sitting room, taking a quick peek in every doorway she passed. There was the library; no Erik in sight. If she wanted she could just fetch a pile of books and go back to her room.

But no, she needed that hug.

She found him just where she had expected to; in the sitting room, stretched out across a sofa, a book in his lap. He didn't seem to have noticed her. She cleared her throat.

Erik started, glancing up at the doorway. "Christine?" He sounded like he'd been crying a little. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Christine looked down at the floor awkwardly. "A hug?"

"Oh."

He hesitated a little before opening his arms to her, both confused and delighted as she joined his embrace as she had done before.

She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She felt much better now, just being held. Erik wasn't even particularly warm: in fact, his body was ice cold, but he made her _feel _warm. _Which is sort of weird. But nice._

Erik reached out a hand to stroke her hair, picking up from where he had left off a few days before. _This is what I wanted, _he thought happily. _Just for us to sit together, holding each other, maybe talking…_

"Are Erik's hugging skills up to your standards?" he asked with a grin.

Christine laughed. "Yes, they're fine!"

_She has such a beautiful laugh. _"I'm sorry if they're not. I'm not exactly used to giving hugs."

He moved to one side of the sofa so she could sit beside him, his arms still nestled around her. She was leaning against his arm where he'd injected earlier, which hurt, but he didn't mind at all. _Just another reason to give it up._

Christine eyed the book Erik had been reading. "'Under the Dome'?" she enquired with a smile.

"It's a good book. Stephen King."

"It's _huge_."

He laughed. "Well, I've had a lot of time on my hands."

She picked it up, scrutinising the cover. "Can Iread it?"

"Certainly not. It isn't a suitable book for a young lady like yourself."

"Why?"

"Did you really come down for a hug or did you just want to criticise my taste in fiction?"

"I got bored." _What else can I say: 'I was really craving human contact so I came down to see you'? Eww. That sounds disgusting._

"Ah." _That explains it, _he thought, a little sadly. _But still, a hug out of boredom is better than no hug at all. _"What would you like to do?"

She paused for a second. "I don't know."

"It's a beautiful day. If you wanted, we could go for a walk around the garden. You haven't seen outside yet."

_Outside. Fresh air and sunlight._ "Sounds great!"

"Wonderful." Erik took Christine's arm and let her towards the door. "Watch your step," he added, perhaps a little too over-protectively (but he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her). "I'm sure you'll like it."

The sky overhead was a vivid blue, and she had to shield her eyes slightly from the bright sun. The light felt warm on her skin, especially after being so close to Erik. She held out an arm, examining it. _I'm getting so pale…I'll need to come out here every day._

The garden was very pretty. Jade green grass, a little white bench in the shade of a small tree, and…

"Roses!" Christine laughed. Hundreds of them, in every colour imaginable. _So pretty. _

Erik smiled. "I'm glad you like them. They're for you: they're all for you."

She was genuinely touched. "They're…they're very pretty. Roses are my…"

"Your favourite, I know."

_Of course you know. You know everything about me, don't you? _"Thank you very much."

"It was my pleasure, Christine. I…I just wanted everything to be perfect for you."

Christine settled down into the bench, Erik next to her.

It was a lovely day. She had almost forgotten that she wasn't there of her own free will. Almost.

They were silent for a few moments, both wondering what to say to the other. Eventually, Erik spoke up. "Would…you like me to tell you a story about a rose?"

Christine stared at him. _That's…sweet. _"Okay…"

Erik cleared his throat. "At the beginning of time, when all things were created, there was a nightingale. Of all the birds in the world, he was the proudest, vainest, and most conceited of all. He spent all of his time showing off his flight, or his handsome brown plumage, but most of all, he would sing. His song was by far the most beautiful of all the other birds; a voice that made the angels weep and the stars fall from the sky. The other birds soon came to resent the nightingale, and he found himself alone. With no one left to impress, he spent all of his time on his own, flying all over the world in search of someone he could sing for. Eventually, he discovered a little garden filled with flowers, where he caught sight of a small white rose growing in a rosebush. The nightingale was captivated by the rose's beauty, the scent of her perfume, the way she danced in the breeze and seemed to hold out her branches for him, and…"

"He fell in love," Christine said softly. She moved closer to Erik as he wrapped his arms around her.

"From then on, the nightingale spent all of his time with the rose. He would sing to her as she danced for him in the breeze, and his love for her grew every day. He made sure she was looked after: if there was a day when no rain fell, he would carry water to her from the fountain to make sure she had enough; if it rained heavily he would shelter her with his wings to make sure she did not drown. Often the nightingale wanted to hold his love, but she warned him never to come too close to her. The nightingale began to fear that the rose did not love him as he thought, and one day, out of desperation, the nightingale flew to the rose to embrace her. His heart was impaled by one of her thorns. As the nightingale died, his blood stained the rose a brilliant red: the first red rose. And as he lay under the rose's branches, the rose wept for her lost love, her crimson petals falling to the earth to cover him."

Christine looked up at Erik, tears in her eyes. "That was beautiful," she said simply. _What kind of man is he? He's just so…different to anyone I've ever met before. So kind, so gentle…_But he kidnapped her, she had to remember that: no matter what he said or did; because of him she would never see her father again, she would never again be free. But at least she was no longer afraid of him. That was something.

"It's getting a little chilly, my dear. Perhaps we should go inside?"

She nodded, letting him lead her back into the house. She didn't know how to feel about him now. _He loves me, _she thought, _he's told me so many times. And I know I should hate him for what he did, but…how can I? And why won't he tell me what's behind his mask?_

**Great, now the horizontal rulers have packed in. Document manager, you have made my list.**

**Thanks to my reviewers!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Thanks! Hard to say what he thought.**

**Kali Rose: *laughs* Yeah, Christine may have found that a little creepy. He is very human, I suppose, poor dear. Hopefully the drugs thing will get better...Hmm, are they as isolated as Erik thinks? Now that would be telling.**

**Rainbow-Says-Rawr: Thanks! It seems Erik's inner voice is his biggest enemy, well, that and Dario Argento...Yeah, he's cute when he apologises.**

**Firelily: Oh, good! Is Erik schitzophrenic (I hope that's it)? Well, to be honest, I'm not so sure. He's definitely got depression, maybe borderline personality disorder...I'm not an expert or anything, I just read Wikipedia. Thanks for the review!**

**AmbraZayn: Hmm, you guessed right. He does have a very addictive personality. Christine needs to work out how she feels about him soon...**

**mirifaery: Ooh, Lord of the Rings. Would you hold it against me if I told you I've never seen it? (If the answer is yes, I'll watch it! No need to unleash the army of Eriks!). Yeah, I think Christine has more personality than some writers give her credit for. I don't want her to be totally OOC, it's just trying to get the balance right.**

**Tina95: Erik certainly does need a hug every now and then. If we find out where he's living now, we could all go and give him a hug each. (oh, army of Eriks vs army of demented Phangirls. Who would win, I wonder?)**

**Heir de Erik: Thanks for taking the time to review to each individual chapter rather than just one big review (means the total count is a lot higher and I look much more popular!) No, seriously, thanks a million. Glad you like Erik and Christine in this one.**

**x x x x x x x x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi again, guys!**

**Okay, so why the huge wait? Well, funny story…actually, no it's not, it was an awful story.**

**Basically, after typing up Chapter 7, I went to work writing Chapter 8, and pretty good it was too, if I do say so myself. I had almost finished it, had saved it, and went downstairs to watch 'The X Factor' (you know, with that Simon Cowell guy?) with my parents, and when I came back upstairs, the computer was…well, it was flashing and making this really weird noise…To cut a long story short, it had died, taking my chapter with it. So since then, I've had to buy a new computer, get it all set up and working and stuff, rewrite my chapter (hopefully it's still okay), et cetera. And writer's block seems to work at its best when you're tired and stressed out and actually want to write something.**

**So anyway, here it is, at long last, and I am so sorry. Please don't kill me. I will update as soon as I can, promise.**

**Oh, and no one so far's got the 'Under the Dome' or 'Shining' thing. *sighs* Well, 'Under the Dome', you should all read just to find it, but to anyone who has a copy of 'The Shining' lying around the house - it's near the end of Chapter Five -Phonebooth…hey, this chapter's about a phone! What a coincidence!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

* * *

**I still don't own Phantom of the Opera. But I'm auditioning for a part in an amateur production of Carousel in a couple of weeks, so wish me luck! "His name is Mr Snow…"**

* * *

Christine lay back on the sofa, a book clutched in her hands. She didn't notice him come in.

"Christine?"

She hastily tried to hide the book, albeit rather unsuccessfully, due to its being almost nine-hundred pages long. Erik spotted it immediately.

"I thought I told you not to read that," he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. _She's so stubborn._

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist."

"Hmm. Has it frightened you much?"

"Not really. It's a little creepy though."

He smiled. "Creepy…What would you like to do today, Christine?"

"I don't know," she said softly.

He hesitated. "Would…would you mind if I sat with you for a while?"

"I…don't know," she repeated.

Erik sighed. "Are you still afraid of Erik?"

"No," she answered immediately, because that was the truth: he didn't frighten her as he once had.

"Do you hate me?" he asked sadly.

"No."

"Well, how _do _you feel about me?"

_Oh God, what a question to ask me. _"That's just it," Christine whispered. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about you."

"How you're supposed to feel…Have you any idea how silly that sounds? It's your choice how you feel about me." He sighed. "Either you love me or you don't."

She shook her head. "Don't you get it? You keep telling me that I'll learn to love you…and…how can I? You kidnapped me, you took me away from my friends and my family, away from everything I knew and loved. It…it would be wrong to love you." She felt too empty to cry. "You hurt my daddy."

Erik was speechless. "You…you can still…" _What am I supposed to say; 'You can still love me even though I've hurt you'?_ He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Christine. I never wanted to hurt your father. You _will _learn to love me with time…"

"I'll never love you! I want to go home."

"Stop asking me that! Do you not understand me?" He was angry now, his voice getting louder with every syllable he uttered. "You can never go home! If I let you go, there'll be questions asked, Christine…"

"I wouldn't go to the police," she whispered. "I just want to go home…"

"They would find me. Whether you went to them or not, they would find me in the end. They'd…they'd take you away from me." He was silent for a moment: the very thought of it disturbed him greatly. "I can't lose you," he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Christine looked at him. She couldn't be angry with him; she could see the tears glistening on his mask. "If I can't see my dad again…Could I call him?"

He looked up at her, a strange, almost panicked look in his eyes.

"Just…just for five minutes?" she asked. "Just so he knows I'm okay…"

Erik started to shake his head, an excuse already beginning to form on his lips, but stopped when he saw her eyes. _My dear Christine…She looks so…sad…It would be the least I could do for her…_ "Wait here," he said quietly, leaving the living room.

He returned a few moments later with a mobile phone in his hand. He punched in some numbers, his eyes barely leaving Christine. He listened to the phone ring a few times as Christine looked on in a kind of elated disbelief.

"_Michael Daaé." _No emotion, no expression; his voice sounded tired and almost empty.

"Are you alone?"

"_What?" _He didn't seem particularly fazed by the question. Prank calls meant nothing to him at that time. His only disappointment was that it wasn't the police calling. It had been days ago that they had last called, and even then it was only to reassure, to tell him that they were still searching.

"Are you alone?" Erik repeated.

He sighed. _"Yes, I'm alone. Who is this?"_

"Do you wish to speak to your daughter?"

There was a slight pause before Michael reacted with complete and utter desperation. _"Christine? My daughter? Is she…can I…let me speak to her!"_

Erik held the phone out to Christine. "Five minutes," he told her firmly.

She took the phone from him as though it was made of glass, as though she was afraid that the slightest touch from her would break it; shatter her only chance to speak to her father again. "Daddy?" She had tried to sound brave, but her voice had come out as a weak croak.

"_Christine?" _

His voice sounded strange: it had been so long since she had last heard anything but Erik's voice. "Hi, Daddy."

"_Oh, Christine." It's her, it's really her…My baby. "Are…are you all right? Where are you?" _He began to sob.

"Daddy, it's okay. I'm okay: I'm safe." She was crying too, despite her earlier vow to stay positive.

"_My darling…" _

For a few minutes all they did was cry. Neither of them could think of anything else to do or say. Christine knew that this was the closest she was ever going to get to her daddy again: Erik would never give her up. And Michael: well, all he knew was that the police didn't know where his daughter was, and worse still, she was with…someone. A man. That fact alone was enough to send a sickening chill down his spine.

Christine finally broke the silence, all too aware of her precious five minutes ticking by, and Erik's eyes never leaving her. "I miss you," she whispered. "But you…you don't have to worry, because…I'm safe here."

"_You're safe? Christine, promise me you're okay."_

"I promise, Daddy. I wouldn't lie to you. He's looking after me."

"_Christine, is he there? Tell him…tell him…anything he wants…" - _he paused for a moment, calculating - _"I've got fifty grand in the bank…I can sell the house…"_

"Daddy, it's okay. He doesn't want your money."

Michael stopped. _"Then what does he want?" _he asked. Although he was certain he already knew the answer. He just hoped he was wrong.

"He…he just…" _Do I actually _know _what Erik wants? _She thought for a moment. "He's lonely. He…needs someone to be with. He…loves me."

That was the answer he had been dreading. _"Christine…"_

"It's okay, Daddy. He won't hurt me."

"_How can you know that?"_

Christine looked to Erik, still standing watching her. "I…just know. He wouldn't hurt me."

"_Christine…"_

"Christine." Erik held his hand out to her, ushering for her to give him back the phone.

"I…I have to go," she said, starting to cry again.

"_Christine, wait! Please, don't go…"_

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she sobbed. "I love you."

"_Christine, wait…"_

Erik snatched the phone from her, turning Michael off, and leaving Christine alone with him again.

* * *

**I know, it's pretty short, but I had to post something before you all got angry. What did you think? Read and review!**

**Kali Rose: Yeah, quiet, fluffy moments. Did I mention there's nothing I love more than Erik/Christine fluff? I think Christine's confused at the moment: lonely, confused, scared - a lot like Erik sometimes. I didn't want her to be too childish, because I think she's suppose to be pretty mature for her age. Although, obviously, in the book, she's naïve enough to believe Erik's an angel, she shows some real maturity at the end when she has to save Raoul (who is not appearing in this fanfic for the simple reason that he is a fop. And also because he's not integral to the plot…But mostly because he's a fop.)**

**Sarah: You think my story's disturbing? Thanks! And thanks for your review!**

**mirifaery: Yep, Kay nod. I will watch LOTR when I get around to it, okay? Frankly, I don't see the appeal in watching people dressed as wizards and hobbits and things running around for a pointless ring. But I'll give it a watch I guess. The Hunger Games RULES. Have you read 'Mockingjay' yet? I won't spoil the ending for you, only that it's brilliant. Virtual brownies sound nice…**

**MarcoHietala'sAngel: Aw, that's sweet! Thanks! The Scots **_**do **_**have pretty accents…Anyway, Erik is definitely the ultimate stalker, and it is a shame for Mr Daaé. And I will perhaps read LOTR seeing as everyone seems to love it.**

**TheRocker09: Thanks!**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Yay! Fluff!**

**Eriks-punjab-girl: Hmm, perhaps I'm getting a little carried away with Erik's niceness. He's very controlling, of course, and wants Christine to do whatever he wants, but I figure he's trying his very best to be nice. Anyway, I'm really glad you found out about 'Pie Jesu' , which is an absolutely beautiful piece of music.**

**KatenHaanrath: Hugs are definitely necessary. Virtual hug to everyone who reads this!**

**Rainbow-Says-Rawr: Thanks, I'm glad you appreciate it; it's the best I can do to get to know everyone. I mean, look, already there's a campaign going to get me to watch/read LOTR. Dario Argento is scary. I've only seen bits and pieces of it too…*shudders*. Anyway, I'm really glad you like my Erik. He's very pleased to hear that.**

**Tina95: The Erik vs. phangirl debate. Yeah, I can't see any of then trying to hurt Erik. Ah, fluff. It's just so…fluffy.**

**Heir de Erik: Yeah, it's definitely confusing for Christine. It's nice to see them open up to each other. More of that coming up.**

**EmmanuelleG: Yeah, Christine has to be able to stand up for herself sometimes. Getting the balance right is tricky…Anyway, law school, sounds cool! Thanks for reviewing! Oh, and 'Monsieur' is going great, by the way.**

**NellieTodd: Ooh, making out with Erik, sounds good to me…Anyway, don't panic, don't panic! I love ALW's musical. That's what got me first interested in Phantom of the Opera. No, I was referring to…em…*sighs* I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but…Love Never Dies? It's a…sequel to…never mind. Maybe it's better that you don't know about it, live in peace and happiness. Anyway, thanks for your review!**

**Firelily: Yeah, school's evil. The Rose and the Nightingale thing, I believe it was written by Oscar Wilde, and Susan Kay refers to it in Phantom. So this is sort of my take on it.**

**Has anyone else noticed that these author's notes seem to go on for ages when I write them? Oh well…**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi guys, me again!**

**Okay, so the bad news is, didn't get the part in Carousel I wanted, which is sad.**

**But the good news is, here's the next chapter! (obviously)**

**Anyway, I've really put a lot into this chapter, so hope you like it. Lots of fluff.**

**As usual, read and review!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

* * *

**I don't own Phantom of the Opera. But hey, I don't own a lot of things, least of all a pet giraffe, a state-of-the-art air hockey table, or anything to do with High School Musical. But I do own some books, DVDs, some Phantom of the Opera memorabilia, and a violin.**

* * *

"How could you _do_ that?" Christine cried angrily.

"I told you that you had five minutes." His voice was deadly calm, unfeeling.

"Can I call him again sometime? Tomorrow, or…"

"No. I took a risk letting you call him even once."

"He's my _father. _You have to let me talk to him again…"

"I don't _have _to let you do anything," he said. "The police could track the call…"

"Oh, that would be awful, wouldn't it?" she whispered coldly. "If the police caught up with you. Is that all you care about? If you get put in jail? Do you not care about me at all?"

"Christine, of course I care about you. I love you; you said so yourself…"

"Or about my dad? He needs me! Do you not care about him? Can you not see how you're hurting him?" A lump in her throat formed as she thought of him. "He's worried sick about me, and…and he's not well right now. Have you any idea how he must feel? How much it must _hurt _him not knowing that I'm safe?"

Erik paused for a moment, before he answered with what was quite possibly the most insensitive thing he had ever uttered. "He'll get over it."

She stared at him, unable to understand how anyone could act so cruelly. "You…you sick…" She trembled with rage. "How can you say that? Are you so cold that you don't give a damn about anyone but yourself?"

"Christine…"

"For once, could you just _try _to think things from someone else's perspective? How would you feel if you were him?"

"I don't know."

"No, think about it," she asked him, fury building up inside her. She wanted an answer, wanted to know just what kind of man she was dealing with. "How would you feel if you had a daughter that went missing?"

"I don't," he said, not seeming to comprehend what she was asking him.

"What about your father? How do you think he would have felt if you had gone missing when you were my age?"

Erik looked at her oddly. "I never had a father."

"Your mother?" she asked him desperately. "You must have had a mother. Can you not understand how she would have felt if she'd lost you?"

"I'm sure she would have been overjoyed," he sighed bitterly.

Christine was about to explode with anger at his answer, when she saw his eyes. _He's…not kidding. _All of her rage seemed to drain away. She took a deep breath. "Erik," she whispered, as gently as she could. "What do you mean, she wouldn't care it she lost you?"

"She…she hated me." He slowly took a seat in his armchair.

_Is he lying so that I'll feel sorry for him? _But Christine immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing when she saw him putting his head in his hands, obviously greatly distressed. She settled down next to him, taking his cold hands in hers. "She can't have hated you, Erik," she whispered, stroking his fingers tenderly as she did. She felt as though she was comforting a child. "She can't have hated you."

He looked up at her, and she could see tears glistening on the edge of his mask. "Mother always hated Erik" he said, almost to himself. "He ruined her life when he was born."

"I can't believe that." She rested her head on his chest in an attempt to reassure him. "I can't believe that anyone could hate you."

"He ruined her life," he repeated.

She was confused. "How could she think that about you?"

He didn't reply.

"Erik, why would she…" Her voice faltered. She gazed down to where she held Erik's hands in hers: his cold, skeletal hands. She turned around to look at where she had been resting her head against his chest, every rib clearly standing out even through his shirt. She stared into his eyes, how far set back in his skull they were; a lot further than they were supposed to be.

She knew now. She knew why his mother had hated him so. She knew why he acted so strangely when he was with her and had gone so far to be with her.

She knew why he had never told her what was behind his mask.

"Erik," she asked him, delicately so as not to upset him, "did your mother hate you because of how you look?"

He shied away from her, retrieving his hands from hers and covering his face again. "Please don't." he whispered.

"Please don't what?"

"Please…don't make me show you…my face."

She stared at him. "Erik…" She reached out towards him, trying to move his hands from his mask, only to have him push her away.

"No!"

She moved away from him a little. _He's _never _pushed me away like that before. Whatever's wrong with him: it's really bad. _"I'm sorry, Erik," she began slowly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I…I didn't mean to…hurt you…"

"You didn't." She tried another tack. "You know, everyone always says I'm a good listener. You can talk to me, if you want. I'll listen."

Erik considered this for a few moments, before slowly lowering his hands from his face. "I can tell you…anything?"

"Mm-hm. Anything."

He laughed weakly. "No one's ever wanted to listen to Erik before."

_Just as I thought. No one's ever reached out to him before in his life. That's why he does the things he does. _"Well, _I _want to listen to you, Erik."

He looked at her blankly for a second or two. "I…I don't know where to start."

"At the beginning? What happened to your father?"

"He left us," he answered sadly. "When I was born."

Christine frowned. "When you were born or…or because you were born?"

Erik stared at her. "When he saw me…he left. He never came back. He loved my mother but…I think he blamed her. For me."

Christine felt sick. "How could he just leave you like that?"

"Oh, Christine…Do you really think he would want to have anything to do with someone like me?"

"But you were his _son_."

"He didn't see me as his son. I don't think either of them did, really. But my father especially. He never saw past my face." His voice sounded distant. "He never saw _me_."

Christine felt tears welling up. She couldn't help it. She thought about her own father, how he had always been there for her, ever since she could remember. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like if he had left. Even when times had been difficult: when her mother had been ill, when the test results had come back, even during the last months of her life when she had wasted away to nothing like the thawing snow: he had been there for her, for both of them. _What kind of man would leave his family…because of how they _looked_, of all things? _She wrapped her arms around Erik, holding him tightly. She was almost afraid to ask. "What…what was your mother like?"

Erik hesitated. "She…she did her best. She never liked me. She couldn't even _look_ at me: I always had to hide my face from her. But she…she tried her best to look after me, even though I…disgusted her. She always wanted to get rid of me…"

"Why didn't she?" It sounded like such a cruel question, but it seemed like an obvious answer. "If she wanted to get rid of you , why didn't she get you adopted?"

Erik laughed. "Think about it, Christine. If my mother called social services telling them that she couldn't look after her own son because of how hideous he looked, which one of us would they be more likely to _take away_?"

"I guess…I mean…"

"She had to look after me, had to pretend to the world that everything was fine. I did my best: kept out of her way as best I could, didn't bother her with anything unless I had to."

"Was she…I mean, was she kind to you?"

He was silent for a moment, recalling his past. "Mm-hm. If I didn't bother her, she might let me come downstairs to help her with the cooking or cleaning. She never beat me, unless I'd done something wrong: asked her too many questions, perhaps, or tried to touch her ."

Christine shuddered, in her mind considering the consequences of Erik's upbringing, how it had affected him…well, she knew from her own experiences what it had driven him to do. Obviously he didn't understand that what he had done to her was wrong. All he knew was that he wanted someone to be with, and didn't know any other way to go about it. It made her cry at the thought of it; of how alone Erik must have been, his whole life destroyed because of a cruel accident of nature.

"I tried my best to make her proud of me," he continued. "I worked my hardest at school, even though I hated it." His eyes clouded over at the thought of it. "I didn't…have any friends." He chuckled darkly. "I still don't. No one wants anything to do with someone like me."

"I do," Christine said quickly. "I'm your friend. I like you a lot."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "That's because you have such a kind heart," he whispered, stroking Christine's face gently. "Such a good girl. You've been so kind to Erik. That's why I love you so."

Christine frowned slightly. She couldn't recall anything that she had done for Erik that could be perceived as being particularly kind. Of course, if he considered his mother as being kind even though she had never let him go near her…he clearly had a different opinion of what kindness was.

_Such a sweet girl, _he thought to himself._ And she _listens _to me, _cares_ about me. She…she said she was my friend. _He sighed. _I've never had a friend before. I've always wanted someone who would listen to me. _"After I left school, I wanted to get away from everything. I travelled the world…"

"You did?" Christine asked, intrigued. "Where did you go?"

"Everywhere. The Middle East, Asia, Europe…"

"Have you been to Sweden?"

"Not yet. Perhaps one day."

"What did you _do _while you were travelling? Sightseeing?"

Erik regarded her with bemusement. "_Sightseeing? _Are you kidding? Do you think it's _free_ to live in all those countries?"

"What, you mean you were working the whole time?"

He sighed. "Yes, Christine, _working. _I understand that to an unruly teenager like you, it must seem like such an outlandish thing to do…"

She laughed; a real laugh, for the first time in weeks, one that made Erik's heart soar to hear it. "No, I get it, you have to work to buy food and stuff. I just wouldn't want to work during _my_ holiday."

"Holiday? Who said it was a holiday? I just like to travel, that's all."

"Well, what did you work as?"

"Mainly…" _a political assassin _"…as an architect."

"Oh, of course. You built this house, right?"

"That's right."

She considered this for a moment. "So, why did you come here?"

"I don't know. I just…I just wanted to settle down somewhere, have somewhere I could call home." In reality, Erik had had to go into hiding after someone wanted him dead, but he couldn't tell Christine that, of course. "I got a job in the city, designing buildings. I built this" - he gestured around him - "as a sort of second home. It's beautiful here, don't you think? Nothing but blue sky and green grass for miles.

"But I wasn't content with being on my own." He swallowed slowly: he had never told anyone so much about himself, and he couldn't help feeling vulnerable. "I've always been alone, Christine. I've never had anyone to love, or to love me. One night, I heard you sing. You sounded so _beautiful: _I had to be with you. I spent so long, just _thinking _about you, about how I could be with you."

She stared at him. "That's why you…"

"I never meant to go so far," he said quickly. "I never meant to…to _steal _you away like this. But I didn't…I didn't know what else to do to be with you." Tears came to him then, and his throat began to ache from the crying, but he ignored it: he had so much he wanted to tell her. "I love you, Christine. I love you so much that it hurts. I've waited for so long to be with you: spent my whole life _waiting _for someone like you who could love me." Erik pulled her to him desperately, enclosing her tightly in his arms, forcing her body against his, so that for a few terrible moments, Christine seriously feared for her safety. But Erik only held her, burying his masked face in her hair, sobbing quietly. "Christine," he breathed, "please tell me what to do. Tell me what to do to make you love me."

Christine said nothing for a long time. _What am I supposed to say to him? _She knew that Erik had obviously tried his very hardest to gain her affections, to make her care about him…

And then it dawned on her. She _did _care about Erik, she realised, her stomach giving a funny little flutter. Even though she knew he had hurt her, that he had taken her away from everything she knew and loved; she _cared_ about him. She didn't _love _him - at least, she didn't _think_ she did…but maybe one day she could.

And would it really be so wrong to love him? Yes, he had done wrong, but that didn't make him a bad person. He had looked after her and shown her so much devotion that almost seemed to make up for his crimes. _And he's been through so much…He _deserves _to be loved._

She was so confused. The more she got to know Erik, the more she came to see him as a person, rather than just as her kidnapper. And yet, there was still so much about him that was still a mystery.

Christine turned to Erik, who was continuing to weep into her hair. "Erik," she whispered, gently taking his hands, "let me see your face."

His eyes met hers, the look of anguish clear to see. "What?"

"I…I need to see you…"

"No," he answered sternly. "You don't _need _to see me."

"Erik, I…"

"No!" He tried to push her away, but she held him tightly.

"_Please_, Erik."

"Why?" he whispered, his voice seething with anger. "Why are you doing this to me, Christine? Why are you so desperate to hurt me?"

"Hurt you?" she babbled hastily. "No, no, Erik, I don't want to hurt you! I just…I just want to see you is all…"

"Why would you want to see me?" he hissed. "Why would anyone _want_ to see me? Have you not been _listening_ to me, Christine? Can you not _understand_?"

"Erik…"

"_All my life_, Christine, I have been on my own, with no one - _no one _- to be with me, to love me, all because of how I look. You asked me whether I could think about anyone but myself; for once, just think about how _I_ feel. How it feels to be without a single friend in the world, how it feels to know that the whole world hates me. Women weeping and screaming when they see me, praying to God that I don't try to go near them; children staring at me, their mothers dragging them away from me as though I'm some kind of monster; babies crying at the sight of me; in short, the whole of the human race despising me…I thought you were different, Christine. I thought you were the one who would love me for who I am. But you're just like them. All you care about is how I look…"

"No, Erik, that's not true! It doesn't matter to me how you look! I just want to _know_…"

He stared at her. "I was wrong," he whispered, more gently. "Why would a beautiful young girl like you want anything to do with Erik?" He brushed a strand of hair from her tear-streaked face, smiling a little as he did so. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are, Christine? The best kind of beautiful: inside and out."

He was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Christine spoke again. "Erik, I don't care how you look, I promise. But if I'm to love you, if we're to make this work, then you have to _trust _me. Understand?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Would you really be content with never letting me see you, Erik? Never knowing for sure how deep my love for you went?"

Erik looked stunned. "You…you love me?"

She thought for a few seconds, gazing into his amber eyes. "I love you."

Erik started to sob again, and Christine quickly embraced him. _I…I just told Erik that I loved him. There's no going back now. _She gave him a comforting squeeze. She had made her decision. She didn't want to go back.

"Oh, Christine," he sighed, his voice tearful.

"Now do you understand?" Christine whispered. "Please trust me."

Erik held Christine tightly, his head against her breast, listening to her heartbeat. _She loves me. I don't want to frighten her…But she's right. I have to trust her or I'll lose her. _He waited a few minutes, however, before he answered her, making the most of what could be his last moments with her.

Eventually, Erik sighed sadly, and slowly untied the black ribbons of his mask. Christine watched, giving him an encouraging smile, holding her breath as she mentally prepared herself for the worst. _I can't be frightened. I have to stay strong. _

He hesitantly lowered the mask from his face, closing his eyes as he did. He didn't want to see her reaction.

Christine gave a faint cry of horror; she couldn't help herself. His face was…chilling. His eyes were deeply set back in his head, more than she'd first thought. His skin had a deathly pallor to it, and was tightly stretched across his face, making his skull clearly visible. Worst of all, he had no nose, just a sickening black hole in his head. It was the worst disfigurement she had ever seen, for one simple reason:

He looked like a corpse.

"Christine?" Erik slowly opened his eyes, afraid of what he would see. Christine looked…terrified.

She stared at him, trying her hardest not to cry. She wished she had never asked to see him; she would _never _forget his face, as long as she lived. "I…Erik…"

"You _promised_," he whispered. "You promised you wouldn't care how I looked." It was such a childish thing to say, but he was past caring.

"I…I know. I'm sorry…"

Erik started to cry unreservedly, not knowing what else he could do. His worst fear seemed to have been confirmed: _I've lost her._ He had nothing to do now but cry.

It was those tears that saved him. It broke Christine's heart to see him cry so much, the whole of his face contorted with sorrow. And in that moment, she put aside her fears, and instead tried her best to comfort him, holding him close to her as she had done before.

"Christine…" Erik gave a moan, snuggling into her again, closing his eyes, grateful to her for giving him another chance.

Christine held him tightly, closing _her_ eyes, trying to pretend that nothing had changed.

And so they slept, like that.

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**Yay, fluff! Anyway, read and review!**

**Melstrife: Too right, I love fluff! Glad you do too!**

**Kali Rose: Yeah, it must be upsetting for poor Michael. You know, in the UK, they're called Jane Bloggs and Joe Bloggs. I don't know why. Anyway, hopefully you liked this chapter.**

**XxClairdelunexX: Well, this one was even more sickeningly cute! Hope you liked it!**

**Tina95: That's a good point. Would anyone rather that I sent PMs to everyone with a FanFiction account rather than writing them out here? Anyway, I reckon that Michael is a rather overprotective dad, so I guess he'd freak out no matter who Christine was with. Still, a guy in a mask is pretty extreme.**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: He does really miss his daughter. Hopefully he'll not be apart from her forever…**

**mirifaery: PRIM! Okay, okay, I'll watch LOTR when I get the chance. Hmm, a teddy bear Erik…**

**MarcoHietala'sAngel: You play the violin too! We violinists rule the world. And someone else who loves E/C fluff! Renaissance fairs…sounds cool! We don't have them over here, seems like a good excuse to dress up.**

**KatenHaanrath: Yes, Raoul is a fop. That's the truth. I mean, who else says "Humbug! Humbug! Humbug!"? Anyway, I've always thought one of the creepiest things about Erik is how he talks in 3rd**** person. It's just so…weird.**

**RainsPhantom: Thanks! Em…so…you don't like fluff…well, sorry about that. Hopefully it's not **_**too **_**fluffy that you'll stop reading. There's still a lot of dark stuff in this…I think.**

**AmbraZayn: *gasps* Wow. I never realised people were so keen on this story. Anyway, when you see your boyfriend again, you best tell him that I'm sorry for getting in the way of you two.**

**Anonymous: Yeah, he's not exactly nice in this one to start either. But we still love him. As to whether Christine will try to escape or not…I'm saying nothing.**

**Sarah: Thanks! Erik can have a sensitive side. And I'm glad you're enjoying all these review replies.**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x (extra one for AmbraZayn's boyfriend. I'm sorry.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi guys!**

**Apologies for the long wait. In the past few weeks, every single one of my teachers decided to give us a test. This weekend, my English teacher, yet again, for the umpteenth week in a row, gave us an essay over the weekend (Ms T, if you're reading this, you'll understand why I picked Phantom of the Opera for my personal study. It's an obsession thing. And Ross, if you're reading this, you'd better read and review, because otherwise, I'll sit with you at lunch and discuss hexagonal torture chambers with you for 45 minutes straight).**

**Anyway, it's here now, chapter 10. Like Ross, please read and review!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

**P.S. To Kali Rose, here's your shoutout for finding the Stephen King thing. Congrats!**

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**Gaston Leroux owns Phantom of the Opera. I own an obsession for it.**

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The early morning sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays through the living room window onto the sleeping figures.

Christine opened her eyes wearily, for a moment forgetting where she was, and gave a tired yawn. It looked to her that it was a beautiful day outside. Turning around, however, seeing once again that ghastly sightlying beside her, she gave a cry of horror, which she quickly stifled, hoping Erik hadn't heard.

It all came back to her now, last night's events. _I told Erik I loved him…_ And he had looked so _happy, _when she had said those simple little words to him. Obviously, they were words he had never heard before. It was such a daunting prospect, knowing that she couldn't go back on what she had said to him. Erik, her abductor, who had stolen her from her old life: and yet, she was the one who now held the most power, Christine realised. She could hurt him; break his heart, if she wanted to. Which she didn't, of course, but just how easy it would be to do so frightened her.

And then it occurred to her: _I could make him let me go. If I really wanted to, I could make him do anything, to prove his love for me. And if he didn't let me go, I could just…stop talking to him. Stop listening to him, or being kind to him. And he'd have to let me go._

Christine gave Erik's head a tender pat. "Don't worry," she said softly, wondering if Erik could hear her. "I won't hurt you, I promise. You've been so kind to me, so sweet. Even though our relationship is a little…" - she paused - "…unconventional, I swear, I'll try to make it work". She kissed his forehead gently. "You've given me your heart, Erik," she whispered, almost to herself. "I promise I'll look after it."

Christine swore that she saw the side of Erik's lips rise, just a little. He'd heard her after all. She settled back into Erik's arms, feeling strangely comfortable with lying beside him. Oh, but she wasn't ready for _that _yet, she didn't think. But with time, perhaps…

_Oh, no… _If Erik had heard her whispering those words to him, then that meant that he'd also heard the cry of horror she'd given at seeing his face. She hadn't meant to; it had been a shock was all, and she would learn to get over how he looked with time.

They lay side by side for an hour or so more, which suited Erik just fine. He was by no means used to all this affection, but he was looking forward to more of it in the future, as their love grew stronger. That scream, though…oh, it had hurt him so. For the first time in his life he understood why they described it as "blood-curdling". It felt like his heart had frozen in his chest mid-beat. _Oh, Christine…_In that moment, he had honestly thought he had lost her. That she didn't love him after all. After all, her reaction to how he looked: he'd seen the horror in her eyes. But then hearing her words, his heart had soared. He loved her so much, loved the feeling of being so close to her, being able to run his fingers through her golden hair, feel her heart beating, the steady rhythm of her breathing, feeling the warm softness of her body so _close_ to him…

Hmm. Perhaps he should get up before he was tempted to do anything. Erik took a quick glance at the clock: he should perhaps start making his dear little rose some breakfast. He was in a good mood: perhaps he'd eat something himself. He gave her cheek a soft kiss, and made his way to the kitchen. He enjoyed making meals for her, even though he wasn't much of a cook. But it was…calming. Palliative. Sausages and bacon sizzling in a pan, fresh orange juice: ice cold, the little _pop _the toaster made when the toast was ready. He cut up an apple for Christine, thinking as he did. For once, everything seemed to be going right. _My whole life, my whole life waiting for someone to love me, and now…_He sighed happily, contemplating the possibilities. _We could get married…one day when she comes to love me a little more, I'll ask her. And then, who knows? Maybe…just maybe, we could start a family together._

But maybe that was wishful thinking. After all, what intimacy had she shown him so far? A kiss. On the forehead. And lots of hugs. And words of love…anyway, the point was not to get ahead of himself. Still, it was more than anyone had ever shown him before, which was more than a little upsetting, seeing as he was nearly fifty years old. Erik looked through to the living room, watching as Christine began to stir awake. She was so…young, so beautiful. He was so grateful to her just for giving him a chance.

He took a few plates of food through to the dining room, calling to Christine as he did. She took a seat across from him a few moments later, and hastily began eating. Erik picked at his food, noting that Christine never really met his eyes as she ate. _I can't blame her: I'm a sight sure to put most people off of their breakfast. _After she'd finished up, however, she looked back at him, taking his hand in hers across the table. They were silent for a few moments.

"You're a great cook," she said, finally.

"Oh. Thank you." He smiled a little. _She says the cutest things._

"It's just as well. I can't cook to save myself!"

Erik laughed. "Oh, that's not true. You can make cupcakes."

She tried to suppress a giggle. "I've not made cakes in ages! Not since…since…"

"Since Meg's birthday?"

Christine paused. "Since Meg's birthday. For our sleepover."

"That's right."

She stared at him. "Just how long have you been watching me?"

"About a year and a half now," he answered, matter-of-factly. "Since I first met you. And I…I fell in love with you."

_A year and a half, _she thought. _Since I was…sixteen? Seventeen?_ "Watching me. Every day?"

He nodded.

"Watching…what exactly?"

"Just…watching you out with your friends, or…or at school, or when you were just staying at home, even." He saw a disturbed look cross her face. "I didn't _watch _you, not like _that, _if that's what you're thinking…"

"Oh, no, no, I…I didn't think…"

"…I just wanted to know everything about you, so that I could have everything ready for you when we met." He paused. "Did I…did I do something wrong?"

Christine smiled sadly. "Of course not. I…I understand if you just wanted to get to know me." She didn't want to upset him. Obviously, he didn't understand his impropriety, which wasn't surprising. He didn't think it was inappropriate to sleep in a coffin, after all. Clearly, there was something very wrong with his head, perhaps not surprising given his history. But he was harmless enough. She looked down to his hands, before looking back to him, concerned. "You're trembling, Erik."

Erik looked down. His hands _were _trembling, just a little. That wasn't a good sign. And now that he thought about it… "Would you…like to sing with me, Christine?"

"Oh, okay."

"Just…just think of something you'd like to sing, hmm?" He tried to stay calm. "Wait here, and…I'll bring the harp down, okay?"

"Sure. Do you need any help with…"

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Wait here." He went upstairs to his room before she could follow him, closing the door. He searched in the bathroom cupboard, but found nothing. _Where is it…where is it? _He rummaged in the drawer beside his coffin desperately, searching, eventually finding what he was looking for after what seemed like an eternity. He was glad he had prepared a syringe in advance.

The relief was immediate, although so was the guilt. _I swore I'd give it up for her…_But he couldn't, he realised now. He'd wanted to deny it, but it was true: he needed help. _But from who? _He couldn't possibly tell Christine the truth. _How…pathetic I would sound to her if I told her. _He…he couldn't. No, he'd have to find some way to give it up on his own.

Erik joined Christine downstairs a few moments later, carrying the harp. He only hoped she couldn't tell what he had done. "What have you decided to sing then, my dear?"

"Do you know 'Lascia ch'io pianga'?"

"Of course. From _Rinaldo. _Very pretty." He settled down at the harp, beginning the introduction.

_Lascia ch'io pianga,_

_Mia cruda sorte,_

_E che sospiri la liberta,_

It was a beautiful song, a little sad, perhaps. Young Almirena, pining for her love, Rinaldo, who was, of course, currently battling with mermaids and evil spirits, as was common in opera. _She sounds so lovely. _She also sounded a lot less nervous than she had the last time she'd sang for him.

_E che sospiri,_

_E che sospiri la liberta!_

_Lascia ch'io pianga,_

_Mia cruda sorte,_

_E che sospiri la liberta!_

Christine looked back at Erik as he played the accompaniment, engrossed in the music. She thought to herself: _is this what my life will be like from now on? Waking in Erik's arms, eating with him, singing with him, loving him…every day? And never leaving here, Erik being the only person I'm with for the rest of my life? _When she put it like that…_And my father. I'm going to miss him so much…_

She closed here eyes tightly, trying not to cry. _Please, God, please let my dad be okay. Just…just let him know that I'm safe, and that I love him. _She bit her lip. _I'll always love him. And that none of this was his fault, _she added, knowing all too well that her father would be no doubt blaming himself for…well, he'd find something. He was like that. For letting her go to the party, perhaps, or for not calling her up every few minutes to check on her. He'd find some way.

For a moment, Christine wondered whether or not her father had contacted the police after her call to him the day before. Perhaps he would have been too afraid in case her kidnapper would hurt her if he did (Erik _had _sounded rather threatening on the phone). Not that it mattered much either way. What did they have, after all, a single phone call, practically untraceable, and not even her kidnapper's name to go on? The police would never find her here. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to spend the rest of her life with Erik.

A lump had formed in her throat, making singing awfully difficult. She hoped Erik wouldn't notice. Think she was just putting a lot into the song.

_Il duolo infranga,_

_Queste ritorte,_

_De' miei martiri sol per pieta,_

_Lascia ch'io pianga,_

_Mia cruda sorte,_

_E che sospiri la liberta,_

_E che sospiri…_

She broke down, sobbing. Yet again, she hadn't been able to finish her song. Erik quickly got up, wrapping his arms around her. Christine lay her head on his chest, and felt Erik's lips on her forehead. "It's all right, my dear. Everything's all right."

She nodded, tears falling from her eyes, soaking the front of his shirt. "I'm…sorry…"

"Don't be silly, Christine. It's fine for you to cry." He sighed. It had certainly been an emotional few days, for both of them. He led her towards the sofa, sitting her down carefully. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

She shook her head. "I'm…fine, honestly…"

Erik pulled her closer to him. He wished he knew how to comfort her…well, he could always finish the piece for her, he supposed. He began to sing, very softly in her ear

_E che sospiri la liberta,_

_Lascia ch'io pianga,_

_Mia cruda sorte,_

_E che sospiri la liberta._

Christine looked up to him, tears spilling from her eyes. _This _was why she loved Erik so, moments like this. Moments when they could really open up to each other, and there was nothing in the way. _Not even how he looks, _she thought to herself. It was only now that she really understood just how beautiful Erik really was. She took Erik's face in her hands, bringing him closer to her. Her lips found his, awkward and hesitant at first, their first kiss, and she felt the tears falling from Erik's golden eyes, mixing with her own on her cheeks. And he kissed her back, his arms ever tighter around her, as the sun itself seemed to smile down on them.

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**What did you think? Read and review!**

**Rains Phantom: Oh, great, you like this fluff! I'm glad!**

**Red Queen of Diamonds: Thanks!**

**Tina95: Violinists shall indeed rule the world! Erik plays it, Albert Einstein played it, Green Dinosaurs Are Enormous (inside joke to violinists. Tee hee!). Hugs are great. Everyone ought to give Erik one.**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Thanks a lot!**

**Rainbow-Says-Rawr: I really enjoy writing fluff. Yeah, pacing's tricky. Hopefully mine's okay…anyway, never mind. Thanks for reviewing!**

**KatenHaanrath: Christine's really starting to understand Erik now, I think. Good times for the two of them in store…**

**NellieTodd: Oh, I think all of us just want to hug Erik ourselves! I know I do…*sighs***

**MarcoHietala'sAngel: No, no blood curdling scream. Although I did consider it, I figured she wouldn't be **_**that **_**freaked out. Renaissance faires sound cool! I could be a princess…**

**TarjaRocksMyWinterStorm: I think Erik always has to have a bit of scary in him. He wouldn't really be Erik otherwise. Thanks for your review!**

**mirifaery: Again, Erik really wouldn't be Erik if he looked okay…I get really annoyed when someone who's seen the 2004 movie and nothing else tells me they love the Phantom, cause half the time, really they just like Gerard Butler because he's hot and sexy and Scottish…Erik isn't supposed to be any of those things! Anyway, thanks for the virtual cookies.**

**Breeness: Thanks! Addicted to a FanFic = good. Addicted to morphine = bad.**

**FirelilyXD: Yeah, the last chapter was pretty sad…Things are looking up…sort of.**

**Sarah: Thanks for your review! Christine and Erik's relationship is …complicated. What do you think so far?**

**Kali Rose: Congratulations again for being weird enough to find the Phantom reference cool! I did too. Seeing as I've only read a handful of Stephen King's books, and already a couple have POTO references…another reason to read them (besides them being awesome).**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, hi guys!**

**Yes, it is me, at last. Em, this is rather awkward…You have no idea how sorry I am for making you guys wait so long. Things (mostly school related) kept coming up, I kept thinking, "I'll get it done soon," and it was only recently that I realised, "Yikes, it's been almost six months!"**

**Again, I'm so so so sorry.**

**You all have KittyPimms (the artist formally known as Katen Haanrath) to thank for making me finally get around to it.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 11 (better late than never?)**

**Jegsy Scarr**

**xxx**

* * *

**After all this time, I still don't own Phantom of the Opera.**

* * *

For the second time in two days, Erik awoke in Christine's arms. He sighed contentedly. _I could get used to this_, he thought with a smile.

Yesterday had been…wonderful. Their first kiss, his first kiss _ever_, in fact. From any woman. It had been long overdue, certainly, but worth the wait, a hundred times over. _Oh, my angel. She kissed me! She kissed _me_! _It was funny, he thought, how such a seemingly simple act could make you feel. One kiss, and Erik felt as though maybe everything was going to be all right.

_Perhaps I'll ask her to marry me, perhaps in a week or two. _Or…or was that too soon? How was he supposed to tell? He had no friends he could ask for advice on such a subject. In fact, Erik had never really had any friends in his life. He had met hundreds, maybe even _thousands _of people in his lifetime, wherever he travelled. But never a friend…well, Erik supposed he had had _one _friend once, an acquaintance of sorts. But…he had turned on Erik too, in the end, as everyone eventually did.

Except Christine. She wasn't like the others. Instead of putting up with him until they could be rid of him, she seemed to have grown more and more fond of him.

So, perhaps it wasn't too soon to ask her. _I do have an engagement ring for her, after all. Oh, but how wonderful it would be if she was my wife! _Erik chuckled. _I'd have to get a bigger coffin. _

But, all joking aside, if they _were_ married, it would be like he was living a dream. Erik grinned. He could easily picture it now: he'd been planning his wedding day ever since he could remember, even though it was only recently that Christine had been the bride. It would be in a church, most definitely. Erik might have…how could he put it…strayed from the path a little, but he had always _wanted_ to be good. Churches were so beautiful, and he wanted his wedding to be as traditional as possible, none of that modern nonsense of getting married somewhere boring like a registry office, or somewhere ridiculous like a theme park or museum or casino. No, the more traditional, the better. He had always had a cathedral in mind, but Erik knew it wasn't something Christine would want. Somehow he knew she would want something simpler.

So, perhaps a little village chapel somewhere. And there would be roses everywhere, all along the altar, all the way down the aisle, with petals underfoot. Erik would stand there before the priest (in his ideal wedding scenario he wouldn't have to wear his mask, but he knew that would not be possible) as he waited for Christine.

And then she would arrive, wearing a beautiful white dress, with a bouquet of roses, and flowers in her hair. Erik could see her now, her dress embellished with shards of colour as the sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows. She would smile, her eyes glowing with love for him, as she walked down the aisle towards him. He would hold her hands in his as they promised to spend the rest of their lives together in love. Then, the golden ring he would place on her finger, and she on his. And, afterwards, when Erik held her in his arms as he carried her across the threshold of their home (fitting really, that he would carry her into her new life, just as he had carried her from the nightclub on their first night together), he would hold her so tightly, before he would lead her upstairs, kiss her, caress her, make love to her, and then…and then as they lay together, in the bliss of each other's embrace, he would whisper words of love to her as she fell asleep beside him…

_Well, that's the plan anyway…It's unlikely she would want such things with me…But, just to _call_ her my wife would be more than I could have ever realistically imagined._

It suddenly occurred to Erik. How exactly were they supposed to _get _married? It had been just over two weeks since Christine had gone missing. If only she had loved him within their first few days together, before her disappearance had become headline news: the whole world was looking for her now. _I'll find a way, _he vowed. _She's mine now, my Christine. And she loves me. And we'll always be together; I'll make sure of it._

Erik held her more tightly, more possessively. A soft moan left Christine's unconscious lips as he did, much to Erik's delight. He was more than a little tempted by her; picturing their wedding night certainly hadn't helped. He just couldn't resist her anymore. Slowly, being careful not to disturb her sleep, he ran a hand down to the small of her back. He could feel the warmth of her skin radiating like sunbeams through the cotton of her t-shirt. As gently as he could, he slid his hand under the edge of the fabric; already his heart was racing. He felt the heat of her flesh burning him, branding him, as his skeletal fingers came into contact with her, sending a wave of pleasure through his whole body. _Christine…_He travelled up the length of her spine, breathing heavily.

As the tips of his fingers reached the clasp of her bra, Erik froze as some shocking realisation came to him. _What am I doing? This isn't right, I shouldn't be…no, not like this…_He carefully withdrew his hand, smoothing her t-shirt back into place. _Not like this, when she's asleep, unwilling. She doesn't want me to…_Erik kissed Christine's forehead rapidly, mentally apologising as he did. _I'm sorry, my angel._

It was only when he reached out to stroke her hair that her realised how much his hands were shaking. _Again. _For the second time in twenty-four hours. _Ignore it, _he willed himself silently. _Just think about Christine, how much she loves you…You have to give this up for her…_

_I can't. I'm not…I'm not strong enough…_

_Then you can't let her see you like this. If you go now, sort it out before it gets worse…_

It was too late. She was starting to wake up. _I'll make her some breakfast, then deal with it._

_Erik? _Christine half-opened her eyes, stretching out a hand in front of her. No, he was already up making breakfast: she could smell the bacon frying. That must have been what woke her up.

The events of the previous day were coming back to her. Talking with Erik over breakfast, singing with him, kissing him…

That kiss. Christine smiled a little, closing her eyes as she considered what it meant. Obviously, she had kissed other boys before, but never was it so intense, or anywhere near as meaningful…

No, she couldn't say that. She had kissed _other people _before. Erik wasn't a _boy. _That was a slightly scary thought. Erik was so sweet, though, it didn't matter how old…

Christine opened her eyes with a start. _What were you thinking? Erik, sweet? He kidnapped you…You can't ever forget that. Erik brought you here against your will, and just because he hasn't hurt you doesn't mean he's done nothing wrong. _

Christine thought for a moment. _True, he committed a crime, but he hasn't _really _done anything wrong, not in his eyes anyway. I can't blame him for what he did._

_Stop it, Christine, stop making excuses for him! Just because he _hasn't _hurt you doesn't mean he _won't_. When he gets angry you can't tell what he'll do. You shouldn't have kissed him: you only did it because you felt sorry for him._

Christine shook her head. This was bizarre. Was this what they meant by having to choose between your head and your heart? Well, if that was the case, she had already made up her mind. She knew what she wanted to listen to. _I don't care what he's done. And it doesn't matter anyway, when you care about someone. _And now she thought about it, it wasn't mere pity that had made her kiss him. _I love Erik. I realised that when he sang to me. I love him, and I never want to let him go._

Christine sighed. She couldn't stop thinking about her father. She _had _to call him again, even if just for a few minutes like before. Maybe, if she could just stay in contact with him, everything would be all right somehow. _Perhaps Erik will change his mind about letting me call him again if I ask him nicely, after everything that's happened._

Bacon, scrambled eggs, Christine's usual apple. Erik noted that they were down to their last few apples; he'd have to go into town that night to get more. _Thank goodness for those twenty-four hour stores. Maybe one day I'll be able to leave her here during the day while I go out to get things for her. _And he felt guilty about what had happened earlier as she'd slept. He'd get her a present to make up for it, some jewellery, maybe, or a new dress, something pretty.

Erik called through to the living room. "Christine, sweetheart? Breakfast." As he took the tray of food through to the dining room, he couldn't ignore the tremors in his hands, as the glass of orange juice barely escaped being spilled. _I've got to get out of here. _"Em…Christine?" he began, as Christine took her place at the table. "I'm just…I've got something to do…"

"Could you sit with me a moment?" Christine took his hand, gazing up at him. "I…I want to talk to you."

"T…talk to me? Well, Christine, I…" The smile on her face and the hopeful look in her eyes was almost enough to make him comply. Almost. "It's just…I really have to…"

"It's…sort of important."

Those eyes, pleading with him again. Erik gave in, and sat down beside her. He'd try his best to keep this as brief as possible. "What is it?"

Christine picked up a forkful of scrambled egg from her plate, chewing it contemplatively as she considered how best to ask him. _I have to convince him first time; otherwise he'll never let me speak to Daddy again. _She couldn't see the look of frustration appearing on Erik's face as he realised that the last thing this was going to be was _brief. _"Erik…I was wondering…"

Erik clenched his hands tightly together under the table. _If this takes any longer, I'm just going to get up and leave._

"I mean, I wanted to know if…if…"

'_If', 'if', if _what_, Christine? Just hurry up and ask me! _He could feel a sheen of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. This was killing him.

Christine closed her eyes. "These past few days have been wonderful, Erik. They really have been…wonderful."

_Well, that's nice to know…But _please _Christine, just hurry up and ask me. _Almost involuntarily, he started to tap his fingers on the edge of the table, hoping this would somehow appease their desire to wrap themselves around a syringe. It didn't.

"It's just…I was wondering…if, I mean -"

"Christine, _what is it?_"

Christine jumped, startled. Erik was a little startled too: he hadn't meant to yell. "I shouldn't have…maybe this isn't such a good time…"

"Oh, _for God's sake_, Christine, what do you want?" _There I go again, yelling at her. I _really_ need that morphine. _He tried asking her more gently. "What…what do you want, Christine?" It didn't sound gentle so much as seething with rage but trying unsuccessfully to hold it back.

Christine bit her lip. "I wanted to know if maybe you'd let me call my dad again sometime, just for a little while." She blurted this out rapidly, barely daring to look Erik in the eyes.

Erik took a deep breath and let it out slowly, again trying unsuccessfully to hold back his anger. "What did I tell you last time you asked, Christine?"

"I…you said…you said no."

"_Why _did I tell you 'no', Christine?"

"Because…" She felt so confused. _Why is he acting like this all of a sudden? _"If the police found you…I understand, Erik, I do…"

"Well, clearly, you don't, Christine," he sighed. "I don't know how to make this any clearer to you. Do you really not _understand_ how dangerous calling him again would be for us? Do you not _enjoy_ being here with me?"

"What? Of _course_ I enjoy being with you, Erik." _What a stupid question to ask me. And he _knows_ it's a stupid question. _"Look, I shouldn't have asked you. I'm sorry." Christine got up from her seat, starting to make her way to her room, her breakfast lying forgotten on the table.

"Christine? Christine?" Erik tried to stop her as she went out into the hallway, grabbing her arm a little too tightly.

She tugged her arm free. "I'm sorry, Erik," she repeated. "I just need to be on my own for a little while."

"_No! _No, no, no…" He recaptured her arm and fell at her feet in a heap, whispering the word over and over, as if doing so would convince her. "No, you need to stay; you need to stay with Erik. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

_You're upsetting me now. _"Please Erik, let me go to my room."

He shook his head petulantly, trying to pull her towards him. "No, no, you need to stay with me, you need to _understand_." Erik succeeded in dragging Christine towards him, and let go of her arm, taking her terrified face in his hands instead. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Honestly I didn't, it's just… I need to do something…and then, and then I'll be better again, hmm?"

Christine stared at him, almost too petrified to move. "Erik, I don't…"

"You just need to trust me, Christine," he whispered. "I'll be better again, I'll be _good_ again…don't cry!" he pleaded as he saw tears glistening at the sides of her eyes. "_Please_ don't cry, it'll all be _all right_."

_You really are frightening her now, _the Voice whispered jubilantly.

"I'm…not…" Erik moaned, much to Christine's dismay.

_Admit it, you can't do anything right. Can't even make Christine stop fearing you? Pathetic._

"Stop it…"

_Look at her! She's terrified of you. Just yesterday she was kissing you. You make everyone afraid of you, don't you?_

Erik clutched his temples in his hands. "Go away, please just go away…"

Christine slowly crawled away from him, although not because of what he'd said: she knew very well that he wasn't talking to her. _If I can just make it to the staircase…_

It took a few moments for Erik to look up, suddenly noticing Christine wasn't there. "Where are you…Christine?" Looking around frantically, he spotted her halfway up the stairs. "_Christine!_ Come back!" He raced after her, but to no avail. Her head-start meant that Christine had reached her room and slammed the door behind her before Erik was even close to catching her. "_Christine!_" Reaching her door, he tried to open it, but it was stuck; he was certain she must have put a chair behind it. "Christine," he sobbed, desperately trying the handle again and again, as if he would be able to open it simply by wishing hard enough.

Eventually, he gave up, going to his own room. He felt awful, he really did. _Weeks of progress with her…all for nothing. We'll have to start all over again. And now, she thinks I'm crazy. _He sat down on his sofa, his head in his hands. _Maybe I am. I have to think…Oh, God, please tell me what to do…_

_You know what you have to do…_

_You're not God. Go away…_

_Just take the morphine, and…_

"No," he moaned. "I can't, I have to give it up…for Christine…I have to get better…"

_You're only going to get worse without it, and then Christine will never want you again._

Erik sighed as he walked to his bathroom cupboard, resigned to what he had to do. The Voice was right; he needed the morphine to make him better again. He wanted all the voices to go away, even if only for a little while. The change he felt after he'd injected was immediate, as always.

But something was wrong: dreadfully wrong. He didn't feel any kind of release this time; there was no calmness or clarity of mind as there always was. If anything, the fogginess he felt in his head had become worse – and it had spread. He could feel it in his chest, his limbs, every vein in his body was throbbing with the same dark rhythm.

Putting the empty syringe to one side, Erik sat back down on his sofa, rubbing the ache in his forearm. _This is bad. _He tried to relax: it wasn't the first time he'd reacted like this. But this was very different to any other time he could remember. Usually, if he was breathless, he'd get back to normal soon after.

But this wasn't going away. The feeling of breathlessness was actually getting worse. _Oh my God. _Erik panicked. _I need help. I really do. _He attempted standing, tried to get to the phone resting beside his coffin (ironically, right next to the syringe), but as soon as he stood up, he felt his strength leave him completely, his vision went a little cloudy, and he was forced to sit back down, his head aching.

_I can't…let Christine see me like this._

He had little choice.

"Christine." His voice came out as barely a whisper. "Christine!" He desperately tried again. "_Christine!_"

This time she heard him from the next room. _What does he want now? I'm not going in there, he's insane._

Several painful seconds passed before Erik realised that Christine wasn't coming for him. He tried again, one last time. "_Chris-" _He broke off choking for air. "_Please – help me-"_

_I'm going to die. All because of this stupid, stupid addiction. I'm going to die, then Christine can go home, be happy without me. All I've done so far is make her miserable._

Christine heard him shouting again. This time, he sounded…no…like he was in pain? And…had he actually said 'help me'? _Something's wrong. Whether he's mad or not, I have to make sure he's okay._

_And what will I have to show for my life? Nothing. Worse than nothing: just a hideous corpse and…and an extensive criminal record. _Erik felt a tear fall from his eye onto his sallow cheek, but he felt too weak to brush it away. _And no one to even remember me. Christine might, for a while, but she'll forget about me, in the end. Soon, I'll be nothing to her but a bad dream. At least…at least I got to kiss her. At least I won't die not knowing how it feels to kiss her sweet lips…_

"Erik?" He heard her knocking at the door, not a moment too soon. _She's here! She's here to help me. _He gasped: he'd been so deep in thought he realised he'd forgotten to breathe. "Christine – please-"

"Erik?" Christine opened the door. "Erik, what…" Christine gave a horrified cry and rushed to his side. "Erik!"

"Christine – can you – the phone…" He gestured weakly towards the table where it lay.

"_What have you done?_" she shrieked.

"It's – morphine…please – Christine…"

"Oh my God." Christine leapt from the sofa, quickly snatching the phone from the table before returning to Erik. "Erik, just hang on, hang on." Her fingers were shaking so much that she had to take a breath to steady herself before she could dial the number. Christine hastily put the phone to her ear, patting Erik's forehead as she did. "It's okay, sweetie, it's okay."

Christine was almost startled by the voice at the other end of the line: it was so strange to hear a voice other than Erik's. A woman's, middle-aged, perhaps. She sounded friendly. _"What's your emergency?"_

"Hello? I need an ambulance – quickly, please…" She could hear Erik's breathing becoming increasingly laboured.

"_All right, dear." How can she be so calm? _Christine thought. Although she was glad someone was. _"Can you tell me what's happened?"_

"It's my friend…he's overdosed…morphine…"

"_Did he inject it?"_

Christine's eyes came to rest on the web of azure veins bulging from Erik's left arm. "Mm-hm," she sobbed, and she reached out to gently take his arm, brushing the veins lightly with the tips if her fingers.

"_All right dear. Just stay calm. Can you tell me where you are?"_

Christine froze. She turned to Erik. "Erik?"

He'd stopped breathing.

"_Erik!_" Christine took him by the shoulders, shaking him desperately. He gasped, struggling to fill his lungs. "Chris…tine…"

"Erik, where are we?"

"In – in Newton…" He spluttered, and Christine tried her best to help him sit up. She spoke into the phone again. "Newton?" The name didn't mean anything to her, but it clearly meant something to the woman.

"_Newton, okay. Can you give me the address?"_

"Erik, where…"

"Tell them we're – in the hills at the old farm – in the house by the lake…" He was breathing more easily now that he was sitting up, but he was still having great trouble breathing.

"The old farm in the hills, by the lake…Please, you have to hurry," she cried. "He can't breathe!"

"_They're on their way, dear," _the woman assured her.

"You hear that, Erik?" Christine whispered. "They're on their way."

"Christine…"

"_If you just stay on the line," _the woman continued, _"tell me, how's his breathing now?"_

"It's…it's okay, he's talking a little…"

"Christine, please…"

Christine stroked his hand gently. "It's okay, sweetie."

"_Could you try to keep him calm, don't let him talk too much…"_

"Christine, listen – listen to me…"

"Erik, she said…"

He shook his head. "Christine, please…listen…"

Christine put the phone to one side, and sat down beside him. "Erik?"

"Christine, don't – leave me…"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I won't leave you, Erik, I promise."

Erik reached out to her, putting his arm around her, weakly. "My angel," he whispered. "Such…a good girl. So kind to Erik, even…even though he's been…such a monster…"

"Oh, Erik…" Christine gazed into his eyes, as he looked back at her steadfastly. "You're not a monster."

Erik smiled, almost triumphantly. "No?"

"No, not at all. You're …you're…"

"I'm…what?"

"You're my Erik," she whispered. "And…I love you."

Erik closed his eyes, resting his head on Christine's shoulder. "Christine…"

"Mm-hm?"

"Hold me…"

Christine wrapped her arms around him. She could feel his breathing getting weaker, his heartbeat losing strength by the minute, his lips turning blue. She kissed him tenderly, feeling the warmth draining from her own lips as she did. She kissed him for a few moments, as passionately as she dared, finally pulling away for fear of preventing his breathing.

"Christine…" His voice was barely audible. "Please…forgive me…"

"Oh, Erik…" Christine pulled him closer, her chest heaving with sobs. She felt Erik's breath on her neck, felt it slowing. Somewhere, in the distance, she heard a siren calling. "They're here, Erik," she whispered, forcing herself to let go of him. "I will come back, I promise." She left his side, pausing for a moment to draw the curtains across his coffin: he wouldn't want them to see that. Her footsteps echoed on the steps of the staircase. Her heart was pounding, the siren getting louder – the three of them mixing to create a macabre soundtrack to all the chaos.

She hoped the front door would be unlocked – it wasn't. Where was the key? Back upstairs in his room? Surely she would have seen it… Perhaps in Erik's jacket pocket? Christine hurried into the sitting room, grabbing it so fiercely from the hat-stand by the door that it almost toppled over. Frantically, she rummaged in the pockets until she found it, just in time, as she unlocked the door to the paramedics before rushing back up the stairs.

"This way! Hurry!"

Christine rejoined Erik on the sofa, holding him lovingly and kissing his ice-cold lips. "Erik, Erik, they're here." Desperately, she tried to wake him. "They're here, my angel, please…"

"Out of the way, Miss, give us some space…"

It was agonising, having to let Erik go again, watching helplessly as they all crowded round him; they were all _staring _at him, and she knew, she just _knew _they were all thinking the same awful thoughts about him, about how he looked. Christine looked on, her mind swirling with emotion. Panic (_will he be okay? Please, God, let my Erik be okay_), rage (_why are they _looking _at him like that, why don't they just help him, instead of _staring _at him_), despair (_why did he take it? Did he mean it? Was he trying to kill himself?_), guilt (_this is all my fault. I should have come sooner_).

And then there was another part of her, some evil part of her that thought of doing such awful things. _I could run away now. There's nothing to stop me escaping from him. _She felt her eyes flicker to the sofa where the phone lay, still on the line to the women. _All I'd have to do was pick up, tell her who I am, where I am… _But she quickly dismissed such heinous thoughts from her mind, turning the phone off as she did. _Erik needs me. I need to be strong for him until he gets better. _Christine resolved to stay with Erik as she had promised, not to leave his side…but that resolve was to be immediately tested.

"Start with two milligrams of Naloxone, see if that's enough to regulate his breathing."

Christine blanched as she watched one of the paramedics fetch a syringe of a clear liquid from a case, and put it to the throbbing blue veins of Erik's arm. She immediately looked away, she couldn't help it, she couldn't bear to see Erik injected with anything else. What if it didn't work? What if it made him worse?

No, she couldn't watch. Instead, she left Erik's room, slowly making her way down the marble staircase she'd seen so much of that day. She'd need to get the front door key out of the lock, and Erik's jacket: he'd need that later at the hospital, perhaps. _Maybe a book? _She went to the bookshelf to obtain one for him. _And maybe…maybe something to eat? A cushion or two? Another book? Maybe I should go back upstairs to fetch his violin or flute…no, that's silly, he won't need them. Perhaps a CD, or his iPod, if he has one, that would be much better. And clothes, I'll need to get them, and…_

Christine ran hectically around the house, finding everything she could, coming up with more and more things to get every minute. Back in the sitting room, she barely noticed as she collapsed from exhaustion onto the floor.

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**Dun dun duuuuuun! So, read and review/yell at me for making you wait. If you're going to ask me questions about stuff, feel free, but bear in mind that I'm going to answer a lot of things in the next few chapters. But ask anyway, I might have forgotten something.**

**Tina95: Thanks! Hope you liked this fluff too!**

**xXAngelofMusicXx: Em, okay, so not exactly ASAP…sorry…**

**Enna17654: Oh, great! The story line of POTO is just excellent. I mean, why else would there be 9000+ fanfics on this site about it?**

**KittyPimms: You deserve an extra x !**

**NellieTodd: Thanks! I got a bit teary-eyed writing it, actually.**

**mirifaery: Yeah, it's beautiful. Honestly, I mentioned the harp before! Chapter five's the first time. He plays it in the original novel, but it was missed out of the first English translation (Wikipedia it for more details). I thought it would be cute.**

**Kali Rose: Hopefully, I've addressed everything either in this chapter, or will in the next chapter. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Nicola Terrisyki: Erik's found love! Yay! Her dad…well, he'll be okay. Promise.**

**MarcoHietala'sAngel: Oh, cool! I stayed up late to finish this chapter! Hope you enjoyed!**

**TarjaRocksMyWinterStorm: Thanks! I do play a violin (its name is Carmen Einstein).**

**Eriks-punjab-girl: Thanks for your review. Hopefully I've sorted it out (sort of, at least).**

**Sarah: Well, that's two things I've answered or will answer soon! Em…well, I have continued, as you have…eventually seen. Sorry. Anyway, thanks for your reviews!**

**Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike: Em, you're welcome. Also, Edward **_**is**_** sexier than Mike. But not sexier than Jacob. *runs like hell***

**Firelily: My first (and only) kiss was when I was eight, with this boy I had to talk into it. Glad you're doing better than me.**

**FirelilyXD: Thanks!**

**Alilie Cullen: Thanks…dude? Glad you liked it!**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi Guys!**

**I'm posting this chapter a couple of days before I go on holiday to Paris! I was a bit pushed to get it finished, so please point out any typos or whatnot, so I can fix them later. I've made a promise to myself not to read any reviews until I get back so I have something to look forward to. So please leave lots!**

**Enjoy!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
xxx**

* * *

Even before she had opened her eyes, Christine registered that something wasn't right. She felt physically exhausted, but she couldn't sleep where she was: she was extremely uncomfortable. Something hard was digging into her spine in several places, and she felt a little too hot from her waist up. There was a strange, clinical atmosphere, peculiar little noises: beeps and whirs, muffled voices in the distance, footsteps.

Upon opening her eyes, everything became painfully clear. Christine found herself lying across several orange plastic chairs, all sitting in a row against the wall of a little white room. A small wooden table, laden with stacks of newspapers and well-thumbed magazines, sat in the centre of the room, and on the wall across from her was a noticeboard covered with posters and leaflets. The room itself was almost unoccupied, with only one other person other than Christine herself: an elderly man reading a newspaper in the corner, who did not appear to have noticed her.

Now fully awake, her mind was reeling as she remembered the full extent of what had happened. She was at a complete loss as to what she should do next. She had to find out if Erik was okay, but had to go about it carefully. _If anyone sees me, recognises me from the TV or something, they could call the police…oh, no…what if they already have? What if Erik's with the police right now? Or what if…what if he's…_ No, she couldn't think like that. Erik had to be all right, just _had _to be.

The old man still hadn't noticed that she had woken up. Perhaps she could just close her eyes and pretend to sleep until he left the room, then she could make a run for it, and find Erik. Looking down at herself, she almost burst into tears as she realised that Erik's jacket had been draped across her, keeping her warm. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to reassure herself that Erik was okay. _He has to be okay, everything's okay…But what if he's not? What if this is all I have left of him? What if this is all I have left…and it still smells like him…and I didn't get to say goodbye…I just left him all alone in his room…all alone…_

"Miss? Are you awake?"

Christine looked up, and saw the old man looking concernedly over his newspaper at her. _Now what do I do? _She sat up and pulled Erik's jacket closer to her like a comfort blanket, and buried her face in it, hoping to come across as emotional.

It seemed to work, as before long she felt a hand patting her shoulders. "It's all right, Miss."

"I'm sorry…"

"It's all right." Christine's heart nearly stopped as she felt the old man give her a kindly but frail hug, and she was forced to lift her face out of Erik's jacket. "You're worried about your…your…"

"My…friend," Christine whispered softly. She searched the man's face for any signs that he recognised her, but didn't find any. "Is he okay?"

She panicked as she saw the man bite his lip a little. "I'm afraid I don't know," he admitted. "I was there when they brought him in – I'm one of the porters here, you see – and they didn't know what to do with you, so I…offered to wait with you until you woke up."

From his tone of voice, Christine strongly suspected that the job of looking after her had more likely been forced on him, perhaps by one of the younger members of staff. _Probably gets looked down on a lot; it was like that with the old caretakers at my school…anyway, what's happened to Erik? _"Can we…can we find out if he's okay, please?"

"Oh, of course. He extended a wrinkled hand to her, which she took, still holding onto the jacket. "Come, we'll ask at the desk, Miss…"

Christine hesitated for a moment. "Jennifer."

"Jennifer. I'm James." He led her from the waiting room, down a corridor towards a little reception area. There were a few doctors and nurses standing around with clipboards or talking, but not really anyone else. They looked at her briefly as she and James passed, but soon looked away, other things obviously on their minds. Christine tried not to meet their eyes just in case. It was a miracle that they hadn't already recognised her. _I know my dad: he'll have been calling newspapers and news channels every day since I've gone missing, I bet. He'd make sure that everyone in the world knew that I was missing, and that everyone was looking for me, until I came home. _

They reached the reception area, which, to Christine's delight, was fronted by a teenage girl who was presently filing her nails and reading a copy of _Cosmopolitan_. "Good morning, Miss Linden," said James pleasantly.

"James." As Christine had hoped, she didn't look up from her magazine. "Can I help you?" She asked this rather unenthusiastically.

"I was wondering if you could give me the room number for a patient here," the old man asked, choosing to ignore her rudeness. "He was brought in about three hours ago…oh, what was his name…" For an awful moment, Christine was sure that James had forgotten, and that he would ask her for Erik's name…what would she do then? But then, after what seemed like an eternity, he remembered, snapping his fingers as he did. "Isaac Rasmussen."

_Isaac Rasmussen? _"Oh, _him_," the receptionist said, in a way that clearly showed she didn't think much of him. "He's in room five, up on the second floor."

Desperately, Christine looked up at James. "Can you please take me there?"

"Of course, dear. I'd like to make sure he's all right, too."

Christine took his hand, as he led her back down the corridor to the stairs. She held on tightly: his thin fingers reminded her a little of Erik's, and she needed now more than ever a hand to hold. Also, something about James reminded her of her grandpa, although she could barely remember him: it had been such a long time ago. Erik, her father, Meg – those were the only people she had left now. She couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

The ward was quiet, with only a few occupied rooms. Like downstairs, there were some doctors going about their work, paying her little attention. _I guess they have other things on their minds, thank God. They don't know who I am. They'll figure it out, though. I'll need to dye my hair or something…_

"Here we are."

Christine looked up. There it was, room five. In the few seconds it took for James to open the door, Christine felt as though her heart would stop. _What if he's not okay? What if he's really sick? What if he's dead in there, and they just haven't realised it yet?_

"Mr Rasmussen? Jennifer is here to see you."

Christine cautiously peered inside. Erik was awake, sitting up against a large pile of pillows; apart from an IV needle in the back of his hand and skin slightly paler than usual, he looked completely healthy. He smiled slightly as he saw Christine.

James quickly ushered Christine inside. "Goodbye, Miss. I need to get back to my work, you understand." He closed the door behind him.

For a moment, there was silence between them, before Christine finally thought of something to say to him.

"'Isaac Rasmussen'?"

Erik gave a wry grin. "Indeed. Does Jennifer know you've stolen her name?"

"Borrowed. I _borrowed_ her name." She tried to smile back at him, but her lower lip began trembling, and she ran to Erik's side, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Oh, Erik…"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Here…" He patted the mattress to the side of him, and Christine climbed in the bed beside him, being careful to avoid the drip. "I'm sorry I frightened you so."

Christine laid her head on Erik's chest, the sound of his heartbeat comforting her; just a few hours ago, she was so sure she was going to lose him. "Why did you do it?"

Erik averted his eyes, unable to look at her. "Because I couldn't help myself. And because I was too afraid to ask for _your _help, afraid of what you would think of me if I told you that…that I had a problem. Before I…I…" He stopped. _What's the point in denying it? _"Before I _abducted _you, I actually intended to give it up. Because I had tried so many times in the past to do so: and I had always failed. And I was so sure that when we were together, that would be enough. I'd be able to give it up _for you_." He gazed at her sadly. "I couldn't. I needed you to help me. And I was _ashamed _of what you would think of me…" He turned away, tears in his eyes.

Christine said nothing. Instead, she reached out to take Erik's face in her hands, pulling him towards her for a kiss. Words couldn't express what she wanted to say to him: that she was so relieved that he was alive, that she hadn't lost the most wonderful man she had ever known; that she could _never _be ashamed of him, or what he had done; most of all, the new-found love that she felt for Erik, that she knew in her heart would only become stronger as each and every day went by. Erik ardently returned the kiss, unafraid now of kissing her too passionately. _Oh, she has no idea what this means to me! _When they had kissed before, he could have dismissed it – not that he'd wanted to, of course – as an act purely out of pity, or fear, or even out of childish infatuation, however unlikely it had seemed that _anyone _could be infatuated with him. But now…it was so much more. _The very fact that she's still here, that she didn't leave me when she had the chance shows that she really _does _love me. And that she _accepts _me, for who I am, even with all of my faults. She cares about me. And she wants to be with me. _

The kiss ended, as all kisses must eventually do, but they would have gladly kissed each other forever, if they could. Christine tenderly brushed the tears from Erik's cheek and impulsively began touching the rest of his face, wanting to explore every inch of it, as Erik closed his eyes contentedly. His lips felt oddly rough under her fingertips, even though moments ago they had seemed so soft to her. His pallid skin was uneven, ravaged by scars: whether they were as a result of drugs, or something natural like acne, or if this was just a part of his disfigurement, she couldn't tell. She gave him a little kiss on the cheek anyway, just in case it was the first. She traced the bones in his face with the tip of a finger, noting how exposed they felt, and just how easily they and the rest of the bones in his body could be broken; instinctively, Christine felt as though she had a duty to protect him. _He's just so fragile_. His lack of a nose intrigued her a little, and she couldn't help but examine it more closely, wanting to know just exactly what was there and what was missing. The bones inside all seemed to be there, but there was no…_what's it called_…cartilage there at all, almost as though someone had forgotten to add it. Erik couldn't help but feel a little irritated at Christine's obvious fascination with his nose, but didn't bother to stop her: he was enjoying the fact that she wanted to get to know him so well.

Christine scattered a few kisses upon Erik's face, before giving him a hug and snuggling up a little closer to him. Erik slowly opened his eyes; still a little taken aback that Christine had shared something so meaningful with him. _She could never understand how much that meant to me. _

He really hated to ruin the moment, but he didn't have a choice. "Did anyone see you on the way up here?

Christine thought for a moment. "The doctors saw me, I suppose. But they didn't recognise me."

"Hmm. I think we'll need to take some precautions just in case…"

"I thought about that. Should I dye my hair, or something?"

"There are some things in my wardrobe back at home. Hair dye, special effects make-up, coloured contact lenses…" He laughed at Christine's expression. "This isn't the first time I've been hiding out from the police, you understand. I think it's fair to say that I'm used to it now."

Christine said nothing. Part of her wanted to know more about Erik's past and why the police had been after him before, but at the same time, she was reluctant to discover more about Erik's crimes, in case she discovered a side of him she didn't like. _But I'm sure I could love him no matter what. _

Erik turned to her seriously. "That man you were with. He didn't recognise you?"

"I don't think so. I think he's maybe a little…old. And you hear about people disappearing every day, but I'm sure most people wouldn't count on it happening to them, if you understand what I mean. If they did think I looked familiar, they'd probably just think it was a coincidence, just because it seems so unlikely that I'd just…turn up somewhere."

"Especially in a small village," Erik added. "You may be right." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely. "I certainly hope so."

Christine took Erik's hands in hers, concerned by what she had just noticed. _They're shaking again…_

Erik smiled at her sadly. "The thing about Naloxone is, it'll save your life, but because it counteracts the morphine, it means the cravings begin all over again. So, withdrawal symptoms start almost immediately."

Christine nodded. "How often have you been taking it since…since we met?"

"Almost every day."

_Every day? Oh, God, how could I not have known?_

Erik clenched his fists together as he had done earlier, knowing it wouldn't help his cravings at all, but trying it anyway_. I just need something to keep my mind off of it. It'll be easier now that I don't have to hide it from her._ "In the months before I abducted you…"

"Don't say that, Erik."

"Before I took you, I wanted to give up the morphine, but I wasn't strong enough. The…stress of everything I had to do to prepare for bringing you home: I couldn't help myself." He paused, gritting his teeth. _This is getting really painful…why did she have to remind me about it? _ "On the day I took you, I injected right before I went to pick you up from the nightclub, and I swore it would be the last time. And…and for a while, I was just so excited at having you with me that I didn't even think about it. And then…it was all too much for me."

Christine gave Erik's hand a comforting squeeze. "I would never have known you were taking it, not in a million years. I don't understand how I didn't notice. When did you take it?"

"Usually first thing in the morning, before you woke up."

Christine considered this. "Yesterday morning…we woke up in each other's arms…"

"Remember I asked you if you wanted to sing with me? When I went upstairs to fetch the harp?"

"You took it then?" Christine was aghast. "You mean you didn't really want to sing with me?"

"Of course I did," he quickly replied. "But I had to _deal with it _first…"

"It doesn't sound like it. You should have _told_ me, I could have _helped_ you…"

"What could you have done?" Erik snapped.

Before Christine could even _look _shocked, Erik was already apologising to her, and began covering her with kisses. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just…the cravings…"

He looked at Christine. To his astonishment, she didn't look angry with him. She was _smiling, _albeit a little sadly. "I understand, Erik…"

"No. No, you _don't _understand. You don't understand how difficult it is, and you're such a good girl for putting up with your Erik when he's like this…." His voice faltered. Christine was staring at him oddly, as if something terrible had just occurred to her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I just realised something. You're angry at me now because of the cravings…"

"Oh, Christine, I'm not _angry_ with you…"

"You were acting really…strangely earlier. And you were craving the morphine then…see, I thought that maybe the only reason you lose your temper is because of the cravings." She sighed. "And then I remembered the first time you lost your temper, do you remember? The first night we were together…"

"Of course I remember." Erik looked at her remorsefully. "I'm so sorry about that…"

"No, I know that," Christine assured him. "I forgave you. But you lost your temper. And you weren't craving it then…were you?"

He nodded. "That's why I told myself I had to take it. Because I'd yelled at you."

Christine looked relieved. "I know it might sound awful, but I'm glad. I'm glad it's the morphine that makes you lose your temper. It's just, when you do, you really _frighten _me."

"Oh, Christine…" He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll never frighten you again."

"Mm-hm." Christine hesitated. "Promise me something else?"

"Anything, Christine."

"No more secrets. If this relationship is going to work, then we have to be able to trust each other."

Erik said nothing. A look of terror had appeared in his golden eyes.

"Erik?"

"This morning, before you woke up…" He bit his lip.

Christine was worried "What? What is it?"

"I…touched you, and I shouldn't have…"

She blinked. "You did _what_?"

"I…I…" _Oh, no! She looks so angry! I should never have given in to temptation… _"I put my hand under your shirt and…stroked your back," he blurted, closing his eyes for fear of what she would say next.

_My back? _Christine started laughing. Timidly, Erik opened his eyes. "You're not angry with me?"

"Oh, Erik," she laughed. "That's it? You had me really worried!"

"You…you don't mind?"

"Erik, why would I mind?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. _I _knew _I shouldn't have felt guilty. Of _course _Christine wouldn't have minded. _

Christine kissed his cheek. "I trust you, Erik. I know you would never hurt me, or take advantage of me, or…"

There was a knock at the door. Christine gasped, getting out of the hospital bed and sitting in the chair beside it, trying her best to look casual as the nurse came in. She was almost certain that it wasn't working, and to the nurse it looked as though she had just been in bed with Erik (which she had, but not in _that _way). Not that it mattered anyway. The nurse was far too preoccupied with getting a good look at Erik's face as he changed his IV that she doubted very much he would notice if she was wearing a t-shirt with 'I am Christine Daaé' emblazoned across the front of it. Thankfully, he left the room as soon as he had finished replacing the drip, but not before taking another look at Erik as he closed the door.

Christine turned to Erik, completely lost for words. She was appalled by what she had just witnessed, just how cruelly the nurse had acted. _Does he have no respect for Erik at all? He's not some _animal _to be stared at…_

Erik responded with a humourless smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Don't look so surprised."

"He…he just…"

"Welcome to my world, Christine."

Christine felt tears welling up. "This is what you have to go through?"

"Every day. You'd think it would get easier, but it doesn't. It just gets more and more irritating." _And sometimes I could honestly just…throttle them. _

She shook her head in disbelief. "But he can't just…he can't _treat_ you like that, I mean, why did you just let him…"

"Firstly, because I don't want to cause trouble, due to the fact that I don't want to draw any more attention to me than is necessary. And secondly, because there is nothing I can do. I can't _make_ him stop thinking I'm a freak."

Christine sat back on the bed next to Erik. "It's…it's just not right. How can people be so cruel?"

"Christine, he's not _cruel._" He smiled sadly. "That's just how most people – nearly _all _people– see me." He gazed at her longingly. "Everyone except you."

Christine frowned. "Erik, I'm sure not everyone…"

"What about your friend earlier? The porter?"

"James? What do you mean?"

He laughed. "You didn't notice how quickly he left after he saw me?"

Christine was silent. _He's right, of course. He _did _do that. And he seemed really nice…_

"You know, earlier, another nurse actually screamed after seeing me. She walked in, saw me, rushed back out again. Heard her shrieking to one of her colleagues," Erik put on a high falsetto. "'What is _that_? What the _hell_ is wrong with him? Oh, my _God_, it'd better not be _contagious_!'" He chuckled darkly. "Think I know how Joseph Merrick felt."

Christine was crying now, sobbing silently as she thought about what Erik had to go through. She kissed Erik, knowing now that this was the best way to comfort him. She snuggled up next to him again, hoping that this was something she'd be able to do more often. "I don't think you're a freak, Erik," she whispered softly. "I think you're beautiful."

"You do?" He felt genuinely moved by the sincerity in her voice.

"Mm-hm. The best kind of beautiful. Inside and out."

They were both silent for a few minutes, kissing and embracing each other. Christine adored every moment. _I love him so much. I just want to help him get better, and then we can spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe, we could work something out, so I could see my dad again. Maybe._

Despite his best efforts, Erik was unable to completely ignore the cravings. _This is agonising. Christine's kissing me, loving me, just like I always wanted her to. And I can't even enjoy it properly. _He shivered. _They're getting worse. I probably don't have long left before…the next stages… _The very thought of what would happen to him soon terrified him. _And Christine _cannot _be there to see it. _

He pulled away from her. "Christine, you should go."

"But…but I don't want to leave you…"

"Christine, listen to me. Morphine is one of the most difficult drugs in the world to give up. Most people don't manage it. I intend to give it up for you."

"You will, Erik. I know it. And I want to be with you to help you…"

"You can't be here, Christine," he told her sternly.

"Why not?"

"Because _I don't want you here_." He took her hands firmly in his. "See how I'm shivering? That's from withdrawal. I'm getting worse. Pretty soon, I'll get really sick."

She stared at him. "What do you mean _sick_? As in…"

"Trust me. You really don't want to know. And I don't want you here to see."

"But I love you."

Erik considered this. _She has a point. After all, if _I _were in her position, I would want to stand by her no matter what. _"We'll see," he decided eventually. "For now, if you want to help me, you could maybe do some things for me?"

"Anything, sweetie."

"I'll be in here for a while. Probably at least a week, if not more. Could you bring me some clothes and things?"

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Maybe some books?"

"I was going to bring you books. They must have left them at home when they took us to the hospital. I'll bring some."

"And…" He paused, pretending to think. "At the bottom of the wardrobe, there are several parcels. They'll all have different names on them: don't worry about that," – he dismissed this with a wave of his hand – "look for one that's already opened, bubble-wrapped inside. The return address should be 'Cartier, Paris'. Understand?"

Christine nodded; Erik was delighted that he'd managed not to give away the surprise. _She is going to be so happy!_

"One more thing. Don't leave home unless you have to, even once you've disguised yourself. Do you understand? Only if you really have to."

"I understand." She paused. "Erik, how will I get home?"

Erik grinned, obviously trying to supress his laughter. "Look out of the window."

Puzzled, Christine did as he said, pulling back the curtains to look out on a picturesque town, like something out of a storybook. Lots of little shops, children playing, the rolling green hills in the distance: everything looked so lovely to her. _I would love to live somewhere like this. _Really, she should have guessed she was in a small town by the size of the hospital. _But I still don't get what he means…_

"You don't understand?" She turned back, shaking her head. "Where did I tell you we were?"

"Erik, what do you…" It suddenly occurred to her. "In the hills, at the old farm…Erik, are we just over the hills?"

"Well, not _just _over the hills. The house is about…five miles away? You could walk, if you really wanted to."

Christine could hardly believe what she was hearing. "All this time…I thought we were far from anywhere…"

"I didn't want you to know. I thought you might try to run away if you knew how close we were to a town."

_I suppose I would have tried to run away. If I hadn't been so scared to disobey Erik._

"There's some money in my jacket pocket if you want to call a taxi, but that's a little risky. I'd rather you walked, if you could. If you do get a ride, tell the driver to take you to the foot of the hills, and walk the rest of the way."

"Maybe I should walk. Just in case."

"All right. Just follow the road: you'll see the house once you've walked a little while. You can drive back. My keys should be in there, too."

Christine fished inside Erik's pockets, eventually finding them. She gaped open-mouthed at the silver logo attached to the key-ring. "You have a _Rolls Royce_?"

"What can I say? I'm rich and ostentatious."

She smiled, giving Erik a quick kiss goodbye. "I'll be back soon, my angel. I love you."

Christine opened the door, taking a quick look outside to make sure no one was around. She was just looking back for a wave goodbye when Erik spoke to her.

"Christine?"

"Erik?"

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. _I have to tell her. She needs to know. _"You wanted me to be honest with you? No more secrets?"

"Mm-hm?"

He forced himself to look her in the eye. "When you get home, get the phone from my room. There's some things on there you deserve to hear."

_What? _"What do you mean, Erik?"

"Just listen." He sighed. "I hope it doesn't change how you feel about me."

Christine was about to reply that nothing could ever change how she felt about him, but stopped when she saw the look on his face, one so full of despair that she really had to question: just what exactly was Erik hiding from her that was so terrible? She gave him a final wave, before closing the door behind her.

* * *

_I just realised, I've never really seen the outside of our house before! _Christine was awestruck as she approached the house, seeing it from a very different angle. _It's so beautiful… _Somehow, Erik had managed to get the balance between opulence and cosiness absolutely right: the house was definitely grand, but still extremely welcoming. _Especially after a five-mile hike, _she thought with a grin, although she actually didn't feel particularly tired. _Maybe just adrenaline keeping me going. I have to get Erik's things._

She retrieved the front door key from Erik's jacket, but found that the door was already opened. _Of course, the paramedics didn't have the key to lock it after I passed out. _Standing in the foyer, everything was eerily quiet, with only the distant sound of the clock ticking to keep Christine company. _Oh, I miss him…but as soon as I have everything ready, I can go and see him again!_

With this in mind, she went through to the living room to fetch some books. She was glad that this time she didn't have to frantically grab the first few that came to hand, but could actually take time to choose something properly. _But what? _There were a couple of novels sitting idly on the coffee table, completely out of place, and it took her a moment to realise that these were the books she had earlier picked out. _Hmm…They're pretty well thumbed…would he want new books or favourite books? _She hoped it wasn't the latter: she had no idea what Erik's favourite books were! She eventually decided to take a few Stephen King novels, since he seemed to like them. _Let's see… 'The Green Mile', since he's obviously read it a lot, 'Full Dark, No Stars', since it's brand new, and 'Under the Dome', since I don't know if he's finished it or not…okay, I'm done. _

She went up to Erik's room and started searching in the wardrobe. _Suitcase, parcel, okay, what would Erik wear?_ This turned out to be remarkable easy to work out, as Christine discovered that the majority of Erik's wardrobe was composed of white shirts and black trousers. She packed several of each, along with some underwear and socks. _It's all so boring…_She paused for a moment, and then packed a few of his ties for good measure, laughing as she did. _If he wants to be formal, I'll let him be formal!_

Christine also had a look through the disguise kit Erik had mentioned. He really did seem to be well prepared for an emergency. She picked out a chestnut brown dye for her hair and a set of contact lenses the same colour. _I've got some hair straighteners in my room. Maybe…should I cut it? _She looked at herself in a compact mirror, trying to imagine what she would look like if she did. She knew how much her father loved her hair, since it looked just like her mother's had – at least, before she'd lost it all. _It would take ages for it to grow back…but I doubt they'd ever recognise me if I looked so different. I guess it's a measure of how much I love Erik, if I _did_ do it…_

But she would have to consider it for a little while. _What else does Erik need? _Searching in the en-suite bathroom, she gathered soaps, shampoo, toothpaste and a toothbrush into the suitcase. _Have I missed anything? _She tried looking in the bathroom cupboard, but instantly regretted it when she saw the jars and syringes of morphine, sitting maliciously in a row. "You nearly killed Erik," she told them harshly, as she dropped them into the dustbin one by one.

_I guess that's everything. What was that thing Erik was talking about? _Christine picked the phone up from the sofa, where it still lay, and turned it on, unsure of what she was supposed to be looking for. She tried looking through his text messages, but realised quickly that there were very few, and even those were just offers from his phone company. Next, she looked through his photographs, and was horrified by what she saw. _They're all of me…_ There were photos, mostly taken from a distance, of her with her friends out shopping, and outside her school. Some were of the outside of her house, with her either on her way inside or as she left early in the morning. There were also a few which she at first couldn't make out, taken in almost complete darkness. One of them she eventually realised was of her and some of the girls, taken from the back row of the cinema, perhaps before the movie had begun. The others were of her, asleep in her room, probably taken in the early hours of the morning. The worst part of it was that they had been taken from _inside _her bedroom.

Christine tried not to be disturbed by what she had seen. _It was only Erik, after all. He probably doesn't even know he's done anything wrong. But even so…just the thought that someone's been watching for years…and what did he _do _with these photos?_

She was about to put the phone away when she realised something. _Wait a minute…if Erik didn't think he was doing anything wrong when he took these, then why would he tell me about them? There has to be something else he thinks I deserve to see…except… _It struck her. _Except, he didn't _say _"see". He said there was something I deserved to _hear. _But what?_

Christine searched the phone again, through every folder she could think of, until she found something which looked promising. _His voicemail folder has more than a hundred recordings…I don't think he's _that _popular. _She opened the folder, scrolling down to the earliest dated recording. She was shocked. _Is that Meg's phone number? _Christine listened to it.

She heard the phone ring a few times, but then, rather than Erik's voice, she heard something which almost made her stop breathing.

_"Hello? Michael Daaé speaking?"_

_"Hi, Mr Daaé!_ _Is Christine there?"_

Christine gasped. _Has he tapped our phone?_ She almost laughed. _I don't know why I'm surprised. He's been obsessed with every other detail of my life, so why not that? _She listened a little longer.

_"Hello?"_

_"Sorry, Chris, did I wake you? I suppose 10.00am is a bit early for a Saturday…"_

_"It's fine, I was awake. What is it?"_

_"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you remembered I'm picking you up at quarter-past-eight instead of half-past."_

Christine frowned. _This is the day he abducted me. But this is the earliest recording…does that mean he's still tapping our phone?_

She tried the next recording.

_"Hello?"_

_"Michael Daaé?"_

_"Yes. Who…who's calling?"_

_"Mr Daaé, this is Detective Inspector Thomson. I'm calling about your daughter."_

She heard the phone clatter to the floor. _Oh no. No, I can't listen to this… _And yet, she couldn't help but listen, out of morbid fascination.

_"Hello? Mr Daaé? Hello?"_

_"Yes, sorry, I'm…I'm here. What's happened?"_

_"Can I come round, Mr Daaé, it'd be better to talk to you in person…"_

_"What's happened!"_

_"Your daughter, Christine, she's went missing."_

She heard her father begin to weep, and quickly stopped the recording. _I can't stand this… _Christine almost turned the phone off, but couldn't. _I have to find out if my dad is okay. _

She tried the next one, which, unsurprisingly to her, was of her father calling Meg's mother. The two of them had always been good friends, especially since Christine's mother had died. She had suspected that she would be the first person he would call.

"_Hello?"_

"_Constance?"_

"_Oh, Michael…"_

"_It's…it's Christine…"_

"_I know, I know. Megan told me."_

There was silence. _"Constance, what am I going to do?"_

"_You have to be strong. I'm sure everything will be fine."_

"_But what if…"_

"_The police know what they're doing. Just leave it to them. Have they put you in touch with anyone on television? I mean, is it too early to start an appeal for information?"_

"_They said that usually they don't put appeals out until later, since they're usually found really quickly." _Christine sensed a flicker of hope in his voice. _"Since usually, they just wander off, or run away somewhere. But, since her drink was spiked…" _He trailed off.

"_Megan said that. She said one of the other girls had had a sip of it, and started feeling faint, so that was the first thing they checked…"_

"_Constance…Constance, what if something terrible's happened to her? I mean, you hear about things like this happening, you know, young girls getting…" _He burst into tears.

Christine spent the next few hours sampling the rest of the recordings. Some were of her father talking to the police, some to Meg's mother. Some of them were prank calls, from clearly heartless people, mostly consisting of people telling him that his daughter was dead, followed by manic laughter. Almost all of them featured her father crying hysterically. She even heard the call she had made to her father two days before. Thankfully in the recordings following this, her father seemed a lot more hopeful.

Christine was in tears by the end. _I can't believe this. How could Erik listen to all of these, and still do nothing? Knowing full well how much he had hurt my father, and yet he still kept me here? How could _anyone _care so little?_

She went through to her room and sat at her mirror. _What do I do now? I love Erik so much. I don't know how I could trust him now…and yet, he did _tell _me about this. He didn't want to hurt me before, but he wanted to be honest with me. I have to consider that._

Christine was so confused, no idea of what she should think. _But one thing I do know: I love Erik. No matter what happens now, I'll always love him._

A long golden curl fell to the floor as she got to work on her hair.

* * *

**So, what did you think? Please leave a review!**

**Tina95: Thanks! I personally love dark fluff!**

**Kali Rose: Yeah, they're going to have to tread carefully! I'm saying nothing about the acquaintance!**

**Phantomlover: I know I'm a bit evil leaving you all hanging like that! But Erik's okay. You can put that dagger away now.**

**greenlightning: Thanks! School can be a bit of a female dog. Thank goodness I'm on holiday now!**

**NellieTodd: Aw, thanks for the hug! And the review.**

**TarjaRocksMyWinterStorm: Yikes, was I away that long? Sorry…**

**98Shaddowolff98: Oh, cool! I love rediscovering FanFics!**

**Sarah: Yep, Erik is very creepy sometimes. But we all love him for it, don't we?**

**TheBlackSister: Thanks! Keep on reading!**

**darknessrising101: Oh, I love Charles Dance's Erik! He's just so charming! And don't worry, Raoul *coughs*fop*coughs* isn't going to be in this one. And I can't see myself ever writing R/C stuff. I love E/C!**

**KittyPimms: He took a turn for the worse very quickly. But he's okay now, promise!**

**Alilie Cullen: I am a little cruel! You know, I'm trying to learn French! I'm not fluent, or anything, but I know the basics. Hopefully it'll be enough to get around Paris!**

**slashersister: Here's your answer!**

**Princess-of-Your-Doom95: Erik's fine! I've managed to get everyone really worried, haven't I?**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi guys!**

**Okay, so this was a really difficult chapter to write: there's a lot of stuff going on, and it took me ages to try and get it right. So…tell me what you think. Also, I've been really desperate to get this posted up as soon as possible, so apologies for typos and whatnot. **

**Read and review!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

* * *

It was early evening by the time Christine arrived back at the hospital with Erik's things. Erik had just woken from a nap to find yet another few people peering in the window to his room. Normally, if he was in good health, he would have said something to them, threatened them, maybe. Erik was never one to just simply ignore staring or abuse: somehow he felt that by ignoring it, it was as if on some level he was agreeing with the cruelty, accepting there was nothing he could do about it.

But in his current state, lying exhausted and shivering in his hospital bed, there really _was_ nothing he could do except stare back at them. This time, staring was all it took: they were just curious people, not meaning any harm. They quickly moved on, although one of them had the audacity to look down at the floor pretending to have dropped something, rather than admit she had been caught. _Do they not realise that I'm a human being? _Erik sighed. He wished more than ever that Christine was there at his side just to defend him…no, he couldn't risk causing a scene. He wished she was there just to hold his hand and tell him that everything would be all right.

His stomach grumbled. A few hours before, a nurse had come round the wards with a trolley and trays of food, but Erik had refused: he didn't think he would ever be hungry enough for hospital food. But he knew he would have to eat something eventually. He was going to need his strength.

He decided to pull the curtain across to the window of his room. Carefully, he got to his feet, grasping the IV stand with a trembling hand. _If I just move this… _Erik tried to push the stand along in front of him, but it didn't seem to want to move. _Pull it, maybe? _The wheels squeaked a little on the floor as it went along. He had walked three feet at the most when he realised that the drip had become tangled around the stand. _Oh, for the love of… _It took him several seconds to untangle it, and he managed to tug on the cord a little as he did, sending a thin rivulet of blood down the back of his hand. Frustrated, he sat back down on the edge of his bed. It occurred to him that he no longer needed the drip now that the last dose of Naloxone had been administered. Now it was just fluids. Fluids which he would soon be losing once the next stage of withdrawal set in…

Erik tried not to think too much about that. It frightened him. _It's my fault, though. For taking the morphine._ He sighed. _I just wanted to control something in my life. I suppose that's what it's always been about. Control. _That had been the reason for a lot of things. He had been searching for so long to find some way to control his life. The morphine, the absinthe: all attempts at…at forgetting his past. The murders he had committed: for his career (which, of course, had led to him seeking a way to forget). Even Christine's kidnapping had been his way of making sure he had even a chance of gaining her love.

_And where has it got you? _Erik sighed, looking down at his left arm: his hand still trembling, still connected to that awful IV. And it would seem impossible, but he had actually succeeded in making himself look even _worse _than he had before. Track marks all around the crook of his elbow, hideously twisted veins turning his forearm into a landscape of azure mountains and valleys. _And these. _He lightly traced a few of the straight white scars that crisscrossed along his arm, like furrows ploughed into a field. _Hmm…it's been a long time since then. I don't _think_ she saw them earlier…how on earth would I explain them to her?_

Erik tugged the sleeve of his shirt back down over his arm as he heard a knock at the door: it could only be Christine. "Come in."

The door opened, and Erik's eyes widened in disbelief. "Christine?" She nodded, and came into the room, setting a black leather suitcase and a smaller pink rucksack on the edge of the hospital bed before taking her place at Erik's side.

Erik was astounded by Christine's new appearance. The long blonde curls which he had always found so angelic were gone, replaced with straight brown hair which no longer fell even past her chin. Her eyes, once as blue as the sea, or the sky, or the rain: now a dull brown, which, Erik supposed, reminded him more of mud. Even her pale Scandinavian skin was now several shades darker from what he decided was fake tan of some kind. Christine looked positively…_ordinary_. It would be far more difficult to identify Christine now, and although Erik was reassured by this, he couldn't help but feel a little saddened, as well as extremely grateful. _She looks so…_different_…still beautiful, of course, but…I can't believe she did this for me._

She also looked decidedly sad. _She listened to the messages. What must she think of me now? _"Christine," he whispered, as he took her in his arms and began acquainting his fingers with her new hair. "You understand? You understand why I had to keep the truth from you?"

Christine nodded again, still not sure what to say to Erik.

He tried to explain to her anyway. "If you had known, if you had found out, I was so sure you would have hated me. And that you wouldn't have understood why Erik did this, why he had to protect you." He paused for a moment, kissing her forehead. "But now I know that you love me, and that you _do_ understand."

Christine said nothing. Erik changed the subject quickly. "Did you bring Erik's things?"

She fetched the suitcase from the end of the bed, and Erik put it on the chair beside him. He fumbled with the catch a little as he opened it, and Christine reached out to help him, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Books." He smiled. "You brought me 'Under the Dome'?"

"I…I wasn't sure if you'd finished it or not." Her voice cracked a little as she spoke.

"Not quite. How far did you get?"

"Only a few dozen pages or so. I got grossed out when this lady got her hand sliced off."

Erik chuckled, and Christine smiled at him, glad that they'd forgotten about the phone messages – she _wanted _to forget. "So you didn't get as far as the town selectman trying to get over her OxyContin addiction?"

"Oh." Christine found herself feeling very awkward. "How does she do?"

"Quite well. Not that she gets to enjoy it. They never do in these books." He chuckled again, putting the books to one side and looking back into the case. "Enough clothes for a week?"

"For two. I packed extra, just in case."

"Such a good girl," Erik said, patting her head, and Christine felt strangely thrilled that she had pleased him. "And…" He took out the little brown package, looking at it for a moment in an odd way, as if unsure of what to do with it next.

"It's the right one, isn't it?" Christine asked worriedly.

"Mm-hm. It's the right one."

Christine looked at it hesitantly. _Am I supposed to see it, or is it secret? _She almost asked him if he wanted her to leave the room whilst he opened it, but Erik had already begun to remove the outer packaging, and take out a small box wrapped in pink tissue paper. _A present for me? That's really sweet of him. But why is the box so small? _ "What is Cartier, Paris?" she asked him.

"Cartier? It's a jewellers."

"A jewellers?"

"Mm-hm. They design rings."

_Rings? _Christine stared at Erik, certain that she must have misheard him._ He can't…he doesn't mean… _ But it soon became clear that her ears hadn't deceived her, as Erik slowly unwrapped the little black ring box and gave it to her, looking deep into her eyes as he did.

She met Erik's eyes, searching for a sign that she was mistaken, that there was something else, something completely innocent in the box. But all Christine saw in Erik's eyes was an intense longing, hopefulness. Cautiously, she opened the box, holding her breath.

Inside, nestled in red velvet, was an engagement ring.

Still unable to breathe, Christine took the ring from its box, examining it in the light. It was gold with a white diamond, as Christine supposed most engagement rings were. But this ring was most definitely unique. Next to the diamond was a white pearl, and beside that, a tiny golden bird, a _nightingale_, with its minute wings outstretched, and its beak open in song. Two small chips of ruby served as its eyes, with three rubies set into the band on either side of the bird, pearl and diamond. The pearl, however, was even more remarkable. It had been intricately carved into the shape of a rose.

Christine tilted the ring away from her as she checked for an inscription inside the band; unsurprisingly, Erik had included one: _To my Christine – the nightingale's rose_.

She looked back to Erik, who still watched her unblinkingly. "Erik, I…I…" Her voice faltered. What was she supposed to say to him?

Erik's brow furrowed slightly. "You…you do like it, don't you?"

"It's…it's _beautiful_, Erik. I _love _it." And that was the truth. She didn't think any ring could be more perfect for her. If anyone else had given her a ring like that one, then Christine wouldn't have still been sitting there, staring at the ring in disbelief: she would have already slipped it onto her finger, would have already been kissing him, crying out over and over again that she would marry him, no question about it. And…she loved Erik. She had been so relieved that he was okay, after fearing that she had lost him. Sometimes in the past she had been afraid of him, but that was only because she didn't know him then. Now, when Erik held her in his arms, she felt safe, and happy, and _loved_. She _wanted _to be held.

_But…but how could I marry him now? After what he did to my dad…Erik's hurt him so much: it'd be like I was betraying him if I married Erik. And it's not just that. How could I marry someone so…callous about other people's feelings? Who can hurt people so easily…and not even _care_…and…and I still love him. What does that say about me?_

"Christine?"

_What do I say to him? He just proposed to me. I have to say _something_. Anything._

"I…I don't know what to say." _Well, I suppose that's better than saying nothing._

"Say 'yes'. Say you'll be my wife." Erik spoke as if it would be the easiest thing in the world. "Just think of it, Christine. It would be perfect: just you and me, together for the rest of our lives." Erik pulled Christine to him, putting his lips to her ear. "Think of what we could do together," he breathed. "We could start a family together, grow old together, spend every day _together_." He said "together" as if it was one of the most beautiful words in the world. Which it was. To him.

He was very convincing. She was almost prepared to forget about what he had done: she so badly wanted the simple life of happiness he was offering. _But I have to talk to him about it. I can't just pretend it didn't happen. _"Erik?"

"Yes, my angel?" She could hear the expectation in his voice.

She didn't want to make him angry. She wanted to ask him matter-of-factly about it: "Erik, could you just explain to me exactly why you didn't tell me you were tapping my dad's phone?" She didn't want to sound upset or accusing until she knew everything. That was what the rational part of her brain wanted to say.

What she actually said was, "You…you hurt my daddy."

Erik sighed, clearly frustrated with her. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "What do you not understand, Christine?"

"How could you just…not…_care _about him…"

"What, do you think I didn't care? Do you think I felt happy with what I had to do to him, what I had to put him through?"

"Then why did you do it? Why did you…"

"Because I _wanted_ you! Because I knew that the _only_ way you would _ever_ be with me is if you had no _choice_!"

"Erik, please…" She tried to calm him down by putting her arms around him again, but realised quickly that it wasn't going to work: he was too upset.

"_Listen_ to me, Christine," he hissed. "Do you think I'm _perfect_? Do you think I'm a _faultless_ individual that _never_ makes a mistake, and never does _anything_ wrong?"

"Well, _no_, but…"

"I have news for you," he told her sharply. "I am not perfect. I can be selfish. I can be controlling. I realise that sometimes, I can even be _cruel_. I _know_ I have faults…" He laughed bitterly. "Surely you realise that now? After _this_?" His laughter turned to tears, and he turned suddenly away from her, sobbing. "I need your help, Christine. You said you'd love me no matter what…please, help me…"

Christine nodded slowly, tears coming to her eyes. _My poor Erik…_

He took Christine's face in his hands and made her look him in the eyes. "I didn't want to _hurt_ him. I didn't want to hurt _anyone_. But I did it, because I wanted you so much, that in the end I didn't _care_ that I was hurting him: I only wanted you. That was all that mattered to me." He closed his eyes, pausing as he tried to control his tears. "Do you think you can help me, Christine?" he whispered, stroking her face gently as he did.

"I _want _to help you, Erik," Christine replied. "But I don't know _how_. I mean, I don't know anything about…about _this_."

"Oh, no, Christine, you don't need to…I just need you there with me." He embraced her lovingly, stroking her hair again. "By my side, at least for tonight. Tomorrow…tomorrow I have to face this alone. Withdrawal symptoms tend to get more and more extreme as the days go by."

She shook her head. "I'll be there, Erik. Even if it gets a little…"

Erik looked at her quizzically.

"A little _messy_," she finished. "And…about…marrying you: I'll think about it."

"That's right. Think about it." He picked up the ring from the bed where it lay. "I know it's know it's not…traditional, but, would you wear it for me, until you make up your mind? I just want to see you wearing it."

Christine thought about this, and then held out her left hand to Erik, watching as he slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a slightly strange sensation: it didn't seem so long ago, only eight or nine years ago, that she had played dress-up using her own mother's engagement ring. It felt odd to be doing it for real.

Of all times for his stomach to rumble, Erik supposed it _would_ be then, during one of the most romantic moments of his life. "Sorry," he told her sheepishly.

Christine looked concerned. "Erik, when was the last time you ate? You didn't have any breakfast this morning."

"Maybe…last night? I had dinner last night…"

"You picked at it. Picking at food isn't _eating_."

"Hmm. I suppose not."

Christine thought about this. "You know, I saw some leaflets in the hallway downstairs for a pizza delivery place. Want some pizza?"

Erik smiled. "I'd like that."

* * *

Half an hour later, Erik and Christine were sitting at either end of the hospital bed, a large vegetable pizza in a box between them. Christine ate her half, the diamond on her finger catching the light every time she raised her hand, and tried to decide whether or not to agree to Erik's proposal. Erik ate his half, his hand steadily aching from the drip, and tried not to dwell on what would happen to him in the next few days.

Christine smiled as Erik yawned after finishing his final slice. "Tired?"

"Not particularly. Finished?" He put the empty pizza box to one side, and took her hands in his. Christine looked up at him, and Erik almost wept at the sight of her face. _So beautiful…so trusting. I don't deserve her. _"Come and sit next to me again. That's right." He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer to him. "I need to talk to you, Christine."

"Why? Is there something else you need to tell me?"

"No, Christine, nothing like that. It's just…You know that I love you very much, don't you?"

"Of _course_, Erik."

"And you know that I only want what's best for you?"

"Erik, where is this going?"

"I've changed my mind. Tonight, I want you with me. Tomorrow, I want you to go home. I don't want…"

"Erik, please…"

"I _don't _want you to be there when this gets worse. It's not something you should see."

"Erik, do you think I'm a _child_? Do you think I can't handle seeing you ill?"

"Christine…" A light sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. "I just don't want…you don't _understand_ how severe this is going to get."

"I can handle it, Erik."

"You say that, but you don't know…"

"I can _handle _it, Erik."

"Christine, listen to me…"

"No, _you_ listen to me, Erik," Christine told him fiercely. "If you think that I am just going to stay at home while you're here at the hospital suffering, then you obviously don't know how much I care about you. I _can't _just wait back at the house not knowing if you're okay or not." Tears began falling from her eyes, and she was unsurprised when Erik brushed each one away for her almost immediately. "If…if something happened to you, and…and I wasn't _there_, I'd…"

"Christine, nothing is going to happen to me. You have to _trust _me on that." _He _was crying now, but not for the same reasons Christine was. He took a couple of tissues from the box at his bedside, giving Christine one and dabbing his eyes and around his nose with the other. "What's wrong? Did you think I was going to _die_, Christine?"

"Mm-hm."

"Oh, Christine." The tears were genuine now. "I'm not going to die! I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know I must have scared you."

She laid her head on Erik's chest, the sound of his heartbeat reassuring her. "It's just, when I thought I'd lost you, I…I mean, you're one of my very best friends in the world, and…and I love you so much. I didn't want to lose you..." She smiled weakly, and planted a kiss firmly on Erik's hot forehead.

"Christine, you'll _never _lose me. I promise you: whatever happens, I'll never leave you. Never."

She nodded. "I know that. I…I was just so _frightened_, when you…when you couldn't breathe, and then…and then you fell asleep, and I couldn't get you to wake up, and…and I just thought it was going to be like my mother all over again, and…that you wouldn't – "

"Your mother?" Erik was stunned. "You remember that?"

Christine nodded again, more slowly. "When she was really sick, you know, when she…when she didn't have long left? Because we only had a nurse come to the house four or five times a week, and…only for a few hours, I think. And my dad had to work most days, and he couldn't cope anyway, so…so I had to go in, sit with her sometimes…" She trailed off.

Erik paused, taking in the new information. "And you were there? You were with her when she was ill?"

"Mm-hm. But she slept a lot then. She was on a lot of painkillers, and stuff."

_Morphine. I bet it was morphine, and I've just had the audacity to put Christine through this all._

"And…and she didn't really recognise me when I spoke to her. She sort of…stared at me, as though…as though she _thought _she might know me, but wasn't sure where from." She paused, lost in thought, then shook her head as if clearing it of thoughts. "Anyway, the point is that I saw her when she was really sick." She laughed nervously. "I'm pretty sure whatever happens to you can't be any worse!"

Erik looked at her silently for a few moments. "I…I had no idea. I thought you hardly remembered your mother, Christine."

What little smile Christine had had faded. "I don't, really. I guess…I remember her a little, but mostly…I just remember when she was…dying."

"Christine…"

"So that doesn't really count, does it?"

"Christine…" Gently, he pulled her towards him to meet his eye level. "I…I'm sorry. Truly, I am…"

She shrugged. "It's okay, Erik…"

"No, no, listen to me…I'm _sorry_, Christine. If…if I had known…" He sighed. "I would _never_ have put you through this if I had known. I would have…I would have given it up for you, I _know_ I would have…"

"Erik." She leaned towards him, lightly kissing his lips. "It's okay. You're right: you're not perfect. But I love you all the same." She laid her head on his chest again, closing her eyes. "We'll get through this together, hmm?"

"Hmm…"

"I don't blame you, Erik. I know it's difficult for you…" She laughed. "Look, we've been through all this: blaming ourselves, apologising over and over again… How about we just concentrate on you getting better?"

Erik considered this. "All right. But I still want to make this up to you, Christine." _Although I'm not sure how…_

"Later, then. Once you're better."

He nodded wearily, stifling another yawn. "Christine…would you mind drawing the curtains for me?"

"Of course. Do you want to rest? I…I can leave if you like…"

"No…I mean, yes, I'll rest, maybe, but…please stay."

Christine smiled, getting up to close the curtains. "Sure. I brought my things with me just in case…oh…" The nurse she had seen earlier was approaching Erik's room. She pulled the curtains shut, then took a seat in the chair by Erik's bed.

A knock at the door, then the nurse was back in the room, staring at Erik. _Not this again… _Christine was tempted to yell at him, but she remembered what Erik had said: best not to cause a scene. But it felt awful not saying anything, and she found herself biting her lip, squirming in her seat.

She caught Erik's eye; he gave her a very slight nod, as if to tell her it was okay. "Excuse me?"

The nurse froze. _He looks like he didn't think Erik _could_ talk, _Christine thought, very annoyed. "Yes, sir?"

"Do you think you could disconnect the intravenous infusion line, now that the last dose of Naloxone has been administered?" Christine grinned: Erik was obviously thinking the same thing as her. _He's not going to let him think he's stupid._ "You can just leave the cannula in place, if it's easier."

He blinked. "Uh-huh…" He did as he had been told. Clearly, he was too taken aback by what Erik had said to question him.

Erik smiled smugly at Christine, who was now biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"I'll…I'll have to reconnect it once - "

"Once we get to stage five of withdrawal, yes, I know."

_Well, that shut him up, _she thought, happily. _Although…what's "stage five"? That sounds rather ominous… _

The nurse unhooked the empty IV bag from the stand, and left the room. Erik noticed with a feeling of satisfaction that, whereas before he had been unable to stop staring at his face, he was now actually avoiding looking at him. _Ah, so I've established the fact that I'm a human being…good. Either that or he's just bored of looking…hmm…_

Christine turned to Erik, still grinning. "Give me a moment, Erik," she whispered, getting up from her chair. "I just need to sort some things out." She left the room, closing the door softly behind her, scanning the corridor for the nurse. _There he is… _She walked up to him, taking a few deep breaths.

He had stopped in the middle of the hallway as he perused a patient's chart. Christine cleared her throat. He stopped reading and turned to her. "Can I help you, Miss…"

"Jennifer."

"Jennifer…"

Christine gave him her best smile. "Could you please tell me who's in charge of this ward?"

"Oh. Well…" The nurse considered this, obviously unsure. "I…I suppose, right now, I'm in charge."

Christine noted the hint of pride in his voice. "Great! Then, I need to ask you about staying here tonight."

"Staying…here?" A puzzled look appeared on the nurse's face.

"That's right. I was hoping that I could stay overnight with…with Isaac - " _God, I almost said 'Erik' _" – just to look after him."

The puzzled look vanished. "Ah, I see…Hey, that's really sweet!

"Mm-hm."

So…you must really care about him, then?"

Christine nodded. "I do. I just want to make sure he's being taken care of."

The nurse smiled at her in a way that was almost cute. "That's…that's really nice of you! Yeah…I mean, you get girls who really don't care about anyone but themselves, and here you are…that's great. I really admire that, especially when he's…" He paused.

Christine smiled patiently, but hoped he would finish up his small talk. _I need to find out what's happening with Erik…and I'm pretty sure that he's flirting with me. _The nurse was probably in his early twenties, and now that Erik was out of his sight, he had barely taken his eyes off of Christine. _Oh, well. As long as he lets me stay here with Erik…_

"Yeah, that's…great. I…I'll need to fill in some forms for you…might take a little while…"

"Okay."

He gestured to Christine to follow him. "Lindy probably has them…I think she's still on front desk duty…"

"Sure." She followed him downstairs, looking around her carefully. The hospital was significantly busier than it had been earlier in the day, and she wasn't sure how well her disguise would work. _It seems to be working fine so far, I suppose. It feels strange being without all my hair…_

She arrived back at the hospital reception. Miss Linden was still engrossed in a magazine. "Hey, Lindy?"

"Mm?" She barely looked up at him.

"Yeah, I need an application form for an overnight visit?"

The receptionist yawned, turning the page of her magazine. "Bottom drawer on the right, Tom."

"Thanks," he told her, making his way behind the desk. "Don't strain yourself, now, Lindy." He winked at Christine, and she stifled a laugh.

"Here we are." He took a pen from his top pocket, and walked back around the desk. "Okay, I'll just fill this in for you. So…Jennifer…?"

Christine tried desperately to recall whether she had told anyone her name earlier. "Giry." _I've borrowed one name already. I might as well borrow another. _"G-I-R-Y."

"Uh-huh…It's 'Rasmussen', right?"

Christine nodded. She was a little surprised Tom had remembered Erik's name. _Maybe he's not as bad as I thought…_

"Do you know his address, date of birth…?"

She stared at him blankly. _Oh, no…_"I…I don't…"

"That's okay. I'll check his records later...How are you related to him?"

"I…I'm not _related_ to him, exactly. We're…friends. That's okay, right?"

He shrugged slightly, obviously not bothered. "Sure…" He filled in a few more details. "So, is he like, a family friend, or something?"

Christine considered this. "He's…well, it's a little _complicated_…"

Tom froze, his pen hovering mid-word over the page. "Complicated? As in…?"

She didn't have to answer him. She could already tell that the nurse had worked out what was going on between her and Erik. There was a strange look in his eyes. _He…he's worked out that I'm in love with Erik…and it freaks him out! He's probably…disgusted at the idea of us… _The realisation hurt her, but she forced herself to accept it. _If I'm with Erik, this will happen a lot. _"As in…I care about him very much."

Tom bit his lip. "I…I'm sorry. I…thought you were a relative…I can't grant you permission to stay here if you're just his friend."

"Really?" she asked acerbically. "You were fine with it a moment ago."

"I…no, I…I thought…"

"You thought he was my friend, and said I could stay."

"No, I didn't say - "

"And now you've changed your mind, all of a sudden. Why?" She tried to keep herself from raising her voice in anger, but it wasn't easy.

He sighed. "Look, I can't let you stay with him. It's…against hospital regulations."

Christine paused. "Is it?" She tried to sound as confident as she could; after all, she had just witnessed Erik getting the nurse to do as he wanted just by acting confidently.

He nodded slowly. "It is. Sorry."

She had a sudden brainwave. She laughed, flashing him her prettiest smile. "That's funny! Hospital regulations. Like…the one that says you have to…I don't know…wash your hands before and after changing a patient's IV?"

Tom's face fell. _It's working! Now, here's the tricky part. Was he watching Erik the whole time? _

"That kind of regulation? It _would_ be awful if someone found out about regulations being broken., Say…I don't know, if someone were to record evidence on their phone, perhaps?"

"I…I…"

His voice faltered, and Christine knew she had won. "Changed your mind? Great! So, I guess I'll be staying here till Isaac's better, I'll just share a room with him, and…I'll get my own breakfast tomorrow morning. 'Kay?"

She skipped back upstairs, triumphantly, listening to the faint sounds of Lindy's laughter as she got further away.

"Oh, Tommy, she totally owned you!"

"Shut up, Lindy…"

"Owned!"

"Shut up!"

Christine laughed. _You shouldn't have…that was so mean! Erik's a bad influence on you! _But she couldn't stop herself from smiling all the same.

* * *

Erik was reading when Christine arrived back at the room. "Hey, sweetie…"

"Christine. Everything sorted out?"

"Mm-hm. I'm staying here with you tonight." She sat down beside him, giving him a kiss. She noticed how warm he had become. "Have you finished your book yet?"

"Just a few more pages." He didn't mention the fact that he found himself concentrating more on stopping his hands from shaking than on the words themselves.

Christine smiled. "You really like Stephen King, right?"

"He has a certain…way with words."

"Mm-hm. Have you read all of his books?"

"Almost all of them," he told her. "I just have to read some of his newest; you understand, I haven't had much time for reading recently."

Christine nodded. "I…I can get you some more books from the house if you - "

"That's fine, Christine." Erik sighed. "I don't know why I bothered asking you to bring me books. A few more hours…I won't want to read anything."

She considered this. "So…what do you want to do? Do you…just want to sleep, maybe?"

"Hmm. I suppose I should, really."

"It…might help you get better."

Erik yawned. "I doubt it. But I need to rest. For tomorrow." His voice sounded steady enough, but Christine was sure she detected a hint of fear in Erik's hoped he would be better soon.

"That's fine. I'm a little tired, too." She gave Erik another kiss. "It's been a long day."

_It certainly has been. And tomorrow will be even longer. _"You said you were staying here tonight?"

Christine nodded. "I brought my pyjamas and things. I'll just…stay…here?" She hesitated. "I mean, _here_?"

Erik stared blankly at her for a few seconds, before he realise what she was asking. "Oh… If you want…if you don't mind…"

"I…I just want to be close to you, just in case you need anything during the night…"

_In case I need anything…such a sweet girl…_ "That would be wonderful."

"Okay." She got the pink rucksack from the bottom of the bed. "I'll just…get changed?"

"All right. Remember your contact lenses."

"Oh!" She rubbed her eyes. "I forgot."

"Mm-hm. You'd better take them out. We don't want your eyes to dry out, do we?"

Christine shook her head, heading to the bathroom. "Just give me a minute; I'll take them out."

Erik yawned, putting his book to one side. "Come back soon."

She went into the hospital bathroom, feeling her face turning red, and shut the door quickly behind her. _What am I doing? It's Erik, for goodness' sake! _But she couldn't help feeling self-conscious. _I just offered to sleep with him! _She supposed she _had _spent the night with him before, falling asleep in his arms. _But…it's just…different somehow. We're not just friends anymore. Now, he's asked me to _marry _him. It's…official now. _She closed her eyes, trying to think. _He wants me to marry him, spend the rest of my life with him…I _do _care about him. And he makes me feel so…safe, so _loved_. I'm sure I could be happy if I married Erik… _

_But that's the thing, isn't it? I don't think I'll ever be truly happy if I'm away from my dad. _Christine burst into silent tears. _Oh, Daddy…I love you so much…I miss you…and…I so want to see you again. _She dabbed at her eyes with a piece of toilet paper, feeling completely lost. _I love you. And I'll try my very best to see you again…but…Erik needs me. _She sighed sadly. Marriage was such a big commitment; she hadn't expected to be faced with the prospect of it at eighteen years old. _I wish I could talk to Daddy about it. He'd know what I should do._

As Christine changed into her pyjamas, she managed to catch her ring on the sleeve of her t-shirt, and it slipped off of her finger onto the floor. She slid it back on, checking it to make sure it was realised the ring was perhaps a size too big for her, which, she supposed, she shouldn't be surprised about. _I never wear rings. It's not as if I have any he could measure it from, like he did with the rest of my things: my shoes, my dresses, my…bras…_ She blushed again, reminding herself that it was Erik, and that she could trust him.

Christine opened the bathroom door slowly. "Erik?"

He was already asleep, lying under the covers, his mouth slightly open. She smiled, turning the light out and locking the door to the room. She carefully got into bed beside him, noting that he had been kind enough to leave a space for her at his side. She kissed his face softly, taking a tissue from the bedside table to dab at his forehead for him. _He's burning up. And…he's still trembling. _She pulled him closer to her, laying his head on her breast. _I just hope this will be over soon._

* * *

The knock on the door woke Christine up. She opened her eyes, stretching and groaning slightly. She looked up at the ceiling, vaguely aware that Erik was lying beside her, and whispered his name softly. "Erik?" She felt him twitch, and she stroked his hair.

There was another knock on the door, and Christine started to get herself out of bed. "Just a minute," she called, reaching for her dressing gown. As she walked to the door, she looked briefly over her shoulder to make sure Erik was all right. The sheet was pulled up around his shoulders, his face slightly buried in the pillow. _I'll just let him sleep, then. _

She unlocked the door. Outside the room stood another nurse, this one carrying a bundle of pillows and sheets in her arms. "Oh. You're…"

"I…I have to change the bed sheets…?" She had to be at least forty, but she looked as though she was terrified by the prospect.

_She's scared of Erik too…but she seems nice enough. _"Here, I'll get those for you," she told her, taking the bundle out of her arms. The woman nodded, smiling gratefully, and hurriedly moved along to the next room.

Christine locked the door behind her, setting the sheets down in the corner. She went back over to the bed and got back under the covers, snuggling up to Erik again. He trembled, and Christine suddenly realised that Erik was awake. "Erik?"

"Christine…" He spoke through gritted teeth, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Is she gone?"

"Yeah, she's gone…Erik, what's wrong?"

"Christine…"

She pulled the sheets back from his face, putting a hand to his forehead. "You're burning up…"

"Christine…it hurts…so much…"

"Oh, sweetie…" She hugged him close to her. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere…everything's aching…"

"Erik…" Christine kissed him lovingly. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I just…want to sleep."

"Okay." She wrapped the covers back around the two of them, then paused. "Do…you want me to stay here?"

"It's…going to get worse…" He shuddered. "You won't be able to stay for long. But…will you stay with me…a few more hours?"

"Of course I will. As long as you want." Christine brushed the tears from Erik's face, holding him close to her. "I love you, Erik. If you want me to do anything…"

"Just hold me…"

* * *

Erik woke at noon in a cold sweat, panicking. _Christine?_

There she was, lying beside him. _Of course…of course she's still here. She wouldn't leave me…Oh, God, this hurts so much… _His whole body ached, the pain seeming to radiate outwards from the very centre of his bones. _I wish the tremors go away soon…the shivering's only making the pain worse. _Except…it wasn't just shaking anymore. His arms and legs were beginning to twitch. _I can't stop moving…I don't want to wake Christine up… _He moved slightly away from Christine, trying not to disturb her, but that in itself was torturous. _She's so warm…why am I so cold? Well, I suppose I'm always cold…but why can I _feel _it? _Erik groaned, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. _I'm a mess…my shirt's sticking to me…ugh, everything's so _sticky_… _His leg kicked out suddenly, catching Christine, who carried on sleeping unfazed. _Oh, Christine…I'm so sorry…you shouldn't be here…_

He shook Christine's shoulder gently. "Christine?"

"Mm?" She opened her eyes. "Erik? Are you all right?"

He gave her a weak smile. "I'm fine. You should go, I don't want to hurt - "

"You're freezing, Erik…"

"I know. But you have to - "

She stroked his face. "You're soaking…"

"I _know _that! _Please_, just go, before I hurt you."

Christine was puzzled. "Hurt me? What…what do you mean - "

"I just kicked you. And I'll most likely do it again, if you stay here." He sighed. "Could you just sit over there for me, out of my way?"

Christine opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it. _He seems a little short with me…I don't want to make him any angrier than I have to. _Reluctantly, she got out of bed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Okay. Why don't you take a shower? I'll change your sheets. Get you something to eat, maybe, or…"

"I'm not hungry."

"Erik, you have to eat something…"

"I'm _not hungry_." He sighed again. "But I'll take a shower."

Christine smiled, glad that Erik was at least doing something she'd asked him, but a little worried that he didn't want to eat. _Oh, well…I'm sure he'll eat something later. _

* * *

Christine sat back in her chair, staring at the crumpled pile of sheets lying in the corner of the room, waiting for Erik to get dressed. A few snacks that she'd got from the hospital café – a sandwich, some pretzels, a few apples – lay on Erik's bedside table; she hoped she would be able to convince him to eat something. The diamond in her ring shimmered in the light. _What will I do? How can I say 'no' to Erik? _Tears started to form in her eyes, and she blinked them back quickly. _No. I can't let him see me cry._

The bathroom door squeaked open, and Christine looked up with a smile, hoping Erik wouldn't notice she had been upset. But her smile quickly faded. "Erik?"

He was standing in the doorway, looking very much as if he was about to collapse. He held one hand to his forehead, trembling all over, seemingly dead on his feet. Christine rushed to his side, putting a supporting arm around him. "Oh, Erik…"

Weakly, he tried to shrug off her arm. "I'm fine…just leave me…"

"Please, Erik?" She led him back to bed; he didn't try to stop her. "Try eating something, maybe? For your strength?"

"I'm…not hungry…"

"_Please_? Please _try_."

"_No!_ Christine, just _leave_ me!"

She lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm sorry…" She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.

_Christine…oh, don't do this to me… _Erik gave a groan. _She's just too hard to say 'no' to… _"Fine, give me the apple."

Christine grinned, passing an apple to him. _Thank goodness… _"I just want you to try it…I know you're not feeling well…"

"_Really_, Christine? No, I'm _not_ well…"

"Please don't yell."

"I'm _not _yelling." Erik grimaced, looking at the apple as if it was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen, then took a tiny bite. He shuddered as he swallowed it. _This is awful. _It was only the delighted look on Christine's face that convinced him to take another bite.

Christine stroked Erik's arm, waiting patiently until he eventually finished the apple. _I hate having to pressure him, but… _"Could you eat something else? It would make me feel better if you did…"

"Why do you care so much, Christine?"

"Because I want you to get better. So you have to eat." She reached for the sandwich, passing it over to him. "It's going to be okay, Erik. You just have to help me help _you _get better."

Erik clenched his fists, fighting back tremors. "Just leave me to eat, _please_…"

Christine sat back down in the chair, out of his way.

It took an eternity for him to eat the sandwich. He had to stop every few bites, occasionally looking to Christine, who would smile approvingly at him. Christine didn't completely understand why it was so difficult for him. _I can hear his stomach rumbling. He can't be full…why is he having to force himself to eat? _She realised she knew practically nothing about morphine withdrawal, other than it was making Erik miserable. _And irritable. I wish I knew how to help him. _

Erik finished eating, lying back in the bed with his eyes half closed. _He looks exhausted… _Christine moved the chair closer to his bedside, gently holding a hand to his head. His skin was hot and sticky, and she could feel the veins throbbing in his forehead. His hair was damp; at first she thought it was simply water from his shower, but she soon realised it was soaked with sweat. _Poor Erik… _She took his hands in hers, stroking them gently, trying to stop them from shaking.

He lay there for hours, until the sun began to set. His breathing was heavy, and apart from the twitching of his arms and legs, he was completely still, as if moving was simply too difficult for him. His eyes were closed a lot of the time, but Christine was almost certain that he was struggling to sleep properly. _Is withdrawal always this severe? _She couldn't tell. _Perhaps it's just Erik. He looks as though he gets sick more easily…maybe it just affects him more than others. _

Christine couldn't help but feel completely useless. She had no idea how she was supposed to help Erik. _All I can do is sit with him…that's all he said he wanted me to do for him. So I guess…I just stay with him and hold his hand. _She used her time sitting beside him to think. _Could I really marry Erik? I mean, life with him now is great…most of the time, anyway. And it'll get a lot better once he's well again. He needs me with him, to look after him. I care about him: I _want_ to stay with him, to help him. But…could I actually marry him? _She looked over to Erik. Had he always looked so old? Had he always looked so…insane?

Something felt wrong about it all, the way Erik made her feel. It scared her to think about what he had done to her; on some level, she supposed she was even a little afraid of _him, _even though she knew in her heart Erik would never hurt what frightened her more was the thought of not being with him, of not being there to look after him. _I don't want to leave him. If I stayed with him, does that mean I'd have to marry him someday? I mean, we couldn't just live together for the rest of our lives without being married…that wouldn't be right. And I don't suppose it would be fair to Erik._

For a moment, she considered what it would be like to be Erik's wife. _Would it be so awful to be married to him? He's a good man. But it would mean…I'd have to… _Christine paused, looking back to Erik, a strange knot forming in the pit of her stomach. _I'd have to make love with him. I'd have to have his children…And, I do _want _children, but…do I want them with Erik? _She couldn't help but think about her own father, and of how much he had done for her in her life. _He's always been there for me, no matter what's happened. I remember when we used to go and fly kites in the park, or feed the ducks. When I was scared at night, he'd sing to me after I had a nightmare, and…and… _Christine smiled, tears coming to her eyes. _And he had that special song he'd play for me on the violin that kept the monsters out of my room. And I remember those stories he used to tell me, about Little Lotte, and the goblins, and the North…_

Erik shuddered suddenly, and Christine began stroking his hands again, noting as she did that his hands had become as hot and sticky as his forehead. But something else also caught her eye. _That ring…what it represents…That story Erik told me; it was so beautiful. And all the little things he does for me: letting me call Daddy, trusting me enough to show me his face, all the times he's held me and comforted me when I cried. He…he's a good man. Maybe…he could be a good father, a good _husband_…he's such a lovely man. He just…he just needs to be loved._

_So…is that it? Have I made up my mind, then? _Christine was still unsure. _I'm going to have to think about it a little longer._

Erik shuddered again, his eyes opening abruptly. He wrenched his hands free from Christine's, covering his mouth with them, and before she could stop him, he got to his feet and hurried to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. "Erik?" Christine got up quickly and tried the door, but he had already locked it. "Erik!"

She heard him coughing, retching. "Erik, please…"

"Christine, for the love of God, leave me alone…" He tried yelling, but it came out as a croak.

"Erik, let me in…"

"Go home! Christine, just…" He broke off, and she heard him vomiting again. "Please, just go," he sobbed.

"Erik…" She was crying with him, trying the door-handle again in case she found a way to get inside. "I…let me help you…"

"Go home…please…"

"I…" She stopped. Erik sounded so broken. And Christine didn't have the heart to argue with him anymore. She settled back down in her chair. _I guess I'll just wait here until he comes out. He might need me to get him something to drink, maybe. _

Christine sighed. She could tell it was going to be a very long night.

* * *

The IV needle was back in Erik's hand the next morning. It stayed there for the next eight days, as Erik lay in the hospital room, Christine barely leaving his side.

Most of the time he spent curled up in bed, his legs tucked up against his chest. The tremors were present almost every hour, whilst every part of his body was in agony. What was worse, his clothes and the bed-sheets would often become completely soaked in his sweat, sticking to him all over. _I must look absolutely disgusting…more so than usual._

The rest of the time he spent in the bathroom, several hours every day. He made Christine stay outside; he couldn't bear any more humiliation. Besides…it wasn't just vomiting.

Christine found plenty of time just to sit and think. She tried not to think too much about her father, or about her friends, or her old life in general. Instead, she tried to think about the future.

Eventually, after Erik had just about lost his will to live, he began to get better. He started eating again, albeit rather begrudgingly, doing it mostly because Christine wanted him to. He could hardly believe that she had stayed with him and supported him through almost two weeks of illness. _She is the most incredible girl in the world. Which, I suppose, I knew already, but still…this proves it beyond a doubt. My dear Christine…I never want to let her go. _

* * *

"It isn't going to be easy, you realise."

Christine looked up from packing her rucksack. "Hmm?"

"This isn't over yet," Erik said softly. "The…addiction. I…" He lowered his head, staring at his shoes. "I still need your help."

She paused for a moment in her packing, thinking. "I know that. But…I'll be there for you, for as long as it takes."

Erik folded up the last of his shirts, smiling sadly. "I…I imagine I'll never get over it completely. It's…difficult. It always has been."

Christine nodded, the knot in her stomach returning. _Never? He'll need me to help him with this…for the rest of his life? Then how…how could I ever leave him, even if I wanted to? _"Erik?"

"Mm-hm?" He secured the catch on his suitcase: his hands were now almost completely steady.

Christine took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I've been thinking about…marrying you."

Erik turned to her, his eyes wide. _Has she…I mean, will she… _He tried to say something, but words seemed to evade him. His eyes flickered to the ring on Christine's finger, then back to her face trying to read her expression. He could only stare at her, his hands hopelessly gesturing for her to continue.

Christine simply nodded in reply.

"Oh, Christine…" His voice was soft, barely audible. _She…she said 'yes'? Christine…said 'yes'… _"Christine!" He rushed towards her, holding her close to him. "Oh, my rose…" His voice was light, full of laughter. "My darling Christine!" _She's mine! She wants to be mine!_ Somewhere inside him, Erik found new strength, and held her even more tightly, kissing her fiercely. Christine was weeping as she kissed him back, her arms wrapping around him in a caring embrace. The reality of her decision was still sinking in.

Bags packed, Erik and Christine left the hospital ward arm-in-arm. "It'll be good to get back home," Christine said, turning to Erik with a smile.

"It will. Is the Phantom parked outside?

"Mm-hm."

"You have the keys?"

"Of course." She fished around in her pocket. "Do you…want me to drive? I mean, do you feel up to driving again?"

"Definitely. I've missed that car. I only hope she hasn't forgotten me."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "'She'?"

Erik grinned. "Well, it's _ma voiture_, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

They continued down the corridor for a few more moments, before Christine spoke, turning back to Erik with a grin. "So does she have a name, _ta voiture_?"

He smiled. "Of course."

"Which is…?"

Erik paused, as if seriously considering her question. "Ayesha."

Christine laughed, and Erik held her arm more firmly, unwilling to ever let her go. _We've come so far together…_

A few nurses were standing around the reception area downstairs. Christine noted that they seemed to become suddenly quiet when she and Erik were passing them. _That's nice of them. Not even a 'goodbye' for Erik? I would've thought they'd be glad to get rid of him…and me too, I suppose. _She managed to catch the eyes of them all, and saw each one of them quickly look away.

Christine felt anger building up inside her. _Right, that's it…_ She walked Erik outside to the car, before rummaging in her jacket pocket, pretending to search for something. "Erik, do you want to wait here a second? I…I might have left my purse inside."

"Fine. I'll get Ayesha warmed up."

"Great. I'll be back in a minute."

Christine strode back through the doors of the hospital, a determined air about her. The little group of nurses was still gathered at the reception desk, still talking amongst themselves.

"…I don't know, I think it was just opiates."

"But that doesn't mean he's not tried anything else. 'Cause, you know, I heard of this guy once who lost the whole middle of his nose taking cocaine."

"Yeah, maybe. Did you see _her_?"

"I know. It's gross, isn't it?"

"I mean, why would she…"

"I know. I think that Rolls parked outside is his. You think he pays her to…you know?"

Christine cleared her throat. They turned to look at her, a few of them smiling nervously. "We…we were just…"

"I know what you were doing," Christine snapped. "You've been treating Isaac like a monster for two weeks. You've shown him absolutely no respect, and you've been nothing but judgemental towards the two of us."

One of the nurses averted her eyes, staring at a stain on the floor. Another looked nervously towards the door, as if desperate to leave. Miss Linden behind the desk sat up in her seat, her mouth wide open.

"Do you not understand that he's sick? And yet you still make fun of him? Even he's done absolutely nothing to hurt any of you?" Christine paused, watching each of them become more and more uncomfortable. _I hope they get the message now. _"Have you any idea what he has to go through every do of his life because of people like you? Just think about that."

She turned to leave again, making her way back outside, then stopped, turning to them again. "And, for the record, no, he doesn't _pay _me to love him."

The door slammed behind her. There was a hushed silence in the reception area, before one of the nurses broke the silence. "You are in so much trouble."

"_Me_? Why am _I_ in trouble? It was _you_ who called her a prostitute…"

"Yeah, well, I'm not getting fired if she files a complaint."

Miss Linden continued to stare open-mouthed into space. "Didn't you see her?"

The others turned to her, a confused look about them. "What are you talking about?"

"She's been here for a fortnight," she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "I can't believe I didn't…I didn't see it before."

Another girl approached the desk. "What is it? What didn't you see?"

She shook her head again, passing an open magazine across her desk to them. "I didn't see it until she…until she was right in front of me."

A news report complete with Christine's photograph stared up at them from Lindy's magazine.

* * *

**So…what did you think? Good? Bad? Somewhere in the middle?**

**Tina95: Yes, Erik's okay! He's also extremely happy now!**

**KittyPimms: I did have a great holiday, thanks! Paris was so pretty…**

**Princess-of-Your-Doom95: I know, I couldn't be bothered with Raoul in this one. He's too…foppish.**

**Kali Rose: My gosh, that would make for a great episode! It's true, he doesn't have many friends…**

**Abby: Thank you! I've always loved Leroux's novel, even more so than the musical, in fact. Erik's much more of a tragic character in the novel.**

**TheBlackSister: Thanks! Paris was great, perhaps a little too hot on a few days. Then again, this is coming from someone from Scotland…**

**principia: I'm sorry. I hope you prefer this chapter. **_**Hopefully**_**, it's better than that one…**

**NellieTodd: Yeah…I promise, I'm not going to stop writing this once till it's finished, but it may take a while, what with school and all…**

**Enna17654: Stephen King is a seriously brilliant author! I just figured that he's Erik's type of writer, very dark…**

**emeraldphan: Thanks for all of your advice and support! See, I told you I'd update soon-ish! Hope you enjoyed the chapter after all that!**

**GracefulWolvesInTheNight: (Very pretty name, by the way…) Ah, chapter 3…I remember that was one of my favourite chapters to write! Glad you liked it!**

**ericksangelofmusic: Thanks!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Well, what did you think of Christine's new look? And, as for her dad…you'll just have to wait and see!**

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi guys!**

**Well, here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy it! It's a little fluffier than most chapters so far, I think. I thought it'd be nice…**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

* * *

"Home at last."

Erik softly kissed Christine's lips, embracing her lovingly as they stood in the foyer of their house. The afternoon sun was still bright in the sky, the warm yellow light streaming in through the windows. "It's wonderful to be back here."

Christine nodded, watching the sunlight sparkling off of the chandelier. "Mm-hm." She hugged him close to her, noticing how frail he still looked. _He should get some more rest. _"You want me to take your suitcase upstairs?"

"I'm fine, Christine. Let me get everything sorted out myself."

"Okay." She kissed his cheek. "Do you…want something to eat?"

"All right." He left his suitcase by the stairs and took her hand, leading her through to the kitchen. _She's such a thoughtful girl. And now…and now she's really mine! Or…she will be soon enough, anyway. I'll need to arrange something as soon as possible for us. I suppose legally we could never be married, not as long as I'm a wanted man. Or I could perhaps get some false identities for us…but not that it really matters. I'll just find a priest, one who doesn't know us, or one who'll agree to keep quiet…There's a church fifty miles away that should be fine. We'll be married in the eyes of God. And that's all that will matter. She'll be mine, forever._

He had opened the bread bin halfway when something obvious occurred to him. "Christine?"

"Mm-hm?" Christine fetched a couple of glasses from the cupboard.

Erik pulled a baguette out of the breadbin, grinning. "I don't recall this being so blue or fluffy before…"

Christine laughed, blushing. "Sorry! I completely forgot!"

Erik tutted, shaking his head slowly. "Shame on you, Christine, caring about me so much you forget to get rid of the bread…I suppose the milk will be the same?"

"Em…probably…"

Erik smiled. "It didn't occur to you to get rid of it when you came here to get my things? It'll probably be cheese by now…We'll have to get some more…For now, there should be some tins of soup in the cupboard, that'll have to do. And...perhaps some wine? I don't know, does wine go with soup?"

"You're…you're sure you want wine?" she asked him gently. "I mean…maybe you shouldn't have any…until you feel better, I mean…"

"Christine, I'm fine. Trust me, I'm feeling better."

"If you're sure. I…just want you to get well again."

_Oh, Christine…Could you be any more perfect?_ "Sweetheart, it's all right." Erik held her to him, kissing her forehead. "I'll stick to water if it makes you happier."

Christine smiled gratefully, going to the cupboard. "Thanks. What kind of soup do you want? We've got…lentil, French onion, carrot and coriander…"

"Anything's fine."

"Carrot and coriander, then. Do you want to go and unpack while I heat it up?"

"I can do it, if you want…"

"I might not be able to cook, but I can heat up a bowl of soup!" she laughed. "Just let me get it."

"Great." _I honestly don't deserve her, _he thought, leaving Christine in the kitchen. _I wonder…will married life with her be like this? That would be wonderful: having meals with her, doing chores around the house with her, sitting out in the garden with her. Just the simplicity of it all. _He took his suitcase up the staircase to his room. _I couldn't ask for anything more, and yet…I'm sure there _will_ be more. Maybe…a family? _

Erik sighed contentedly at the thought, opening his suitcase. _Everything in here needs washing, I think. Oh, except the ties… _He went to the wardrobe to put them away. _What else…the books… _He sat them on the table beside his coffin. _I'll take them downstairs later. And the only things left in here are toiletries. Well, this is taking a lot less time than I thought it would. _Erik emptied them out and took them through to the bathroom, putting the shampoo and soaps back in his bath.

As he put his toothbrush and toothpaste back by the sink, his eyes travelled to the bathroom cupboard above it. He froze. _The morphine. It's still in there… _Hesitantly, he opened the cupboard, afraid to look, but found the shelf empty. _Where…where is it all? I'm sure I left them in here… _He went back through to the bedroom, telling himself not to panic. _If it's not in there, then it'll be in the drawer beside my coffin. _He pulled open the drawer. Nothing. _All right, Erik, calm down, it doesn't matter. You can do this._

He sat down heavily on the sofa. _It really doesn't matter; even if it was there, I wouldn't be using it. But…I need it, just in case…for security…no. No, what am I thinking? _Christine's_ my security. She loves me. She's there for me. I couldn't give in now, not after everything she's done for me._

Erik made his way back down the staircase to the kitchen, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind. "It's nearly ready, Erik," Christine told him. "Could you get some bowls?"

"Of course. I'll get the drinks, too. What would you like?"

"Just some water, please."

_Two waters, then. Although I would much rather have some wine. But Christine must come first. I don't want to worry her unnecessarily._

Erik fetched a couple of bowls from the cupboard, setting them down beside the stove. He filled two crystal glasses with water, placing them on the dining room table. Sitting in his chair, he watched Christine as she ladled soup into the bowls, humming softly to herself as she did. _How sweet…She is going to be such a wonderful wife._

He smiled at her as she put the soup on the table for him. "Careful, it's hot. I'll just get the spoons…no, it's okay, I'll get them," she insisted, as Erik began to get up. "Just relax."

_My angel…So perfect. _Erik sipped his water, very much enjoying the thought of Christine becoming his wife. _I wonder if I should talk to her about it…yes, that's a good idea. _He realised that they hadn't mentioned their marriage since they were at the hospital. _I have to talk to her about it, really. I need to find out what she wants…_

Christine sat back at the table, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Christine. You don't have to worry about me -"

"I know, I know." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be overprotective, or -"

"No, I understand." He was going to apologise again for putting her through everything, but thought better of it. _It's probably best just to move on. We have more important things to discuss. _"Christine?"

"Mm-hm?"

"There's some things that we really have to talk about. You know, about…about us. About our future."

Christine froze for an instant, her spoon halfway between her mouth and the bowl, but she recovered quickly. "Our future?"

"Our future, Christine. Our _marriage_." Erik gazed at her, a serene look across his skeletal face. "I think it should be soon. In a church. There's a beautiful one not too far from here. I thought it'd be perfect. We can see if we can arrange the wedding there." _And make sure they don't recognise Christine there…_

"Yeah…"

"I'll take you to see it sometime. Tomorrow, if you'd like that. And there's a bridal shop, too, in the same town. Lovely dresses there."

"Mm-hm." She wasn't sure what else to say. He was speaking so matter-of-factly, and she didn't see any reason to argue with him. _I knew this was coming. It's just…I didn't think it'd be soon. I suppose…I suppose it doesn't matter _when _it is. The fact is I'm marrying him. Someday._

"So…I'll take you there to pick something out. Whatever you like." He grinned, trying to catch her eye. "I've heard it said that a wedding dress is the most important dress of a woman's life."

"I'd say so." Christine smiled, mostly to reassure herself. _I'm being silly to worry about it, though. It'll be great marrying Erik. I love him, he loves me…It'll be beautiful. _"So…any limits on the price?"

"How could I put a price on your happiness, Christine?"

_Awww…That's really sweet! _"Seriously, anything at all?"

"Absolutely, my rose." He paused, chewing on a piece of carrot. "Is there any particular type of dress you'd like?"

"Well, it needs to be…" Christine put down her spoon, using her fingers to count out her ideas. "It needs to be white, floor-length, old-fashioned, you know, like Victoriana style? And frilly, but not _too_ frilly. Just some on the hem, and the bottom of the sleeves, maybe. And a nice neckline, not too low, but not too high either…"

_Oh, Christine…I have no idea what you're talking about. But I'd give anything just to listen to you all day…_

"…Some pretty embroidery on the bodice. And a layered skirt. But not too puffy. You know, it still has to be _practical_. Don't you think?"

Erik stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really have thought all this through, haven't you?"

"Of course!" She picked up her spoon, continuing with her soup. "All women think about their wedding day. Haven't _you_ thought about it?"

Erik chuckled. "I don't think I've ever put so much thought into a single element before. More the overall _concept_ of the whole thing in its entirety. Hmm…I think it's just a man thing."

"Definitely. I guess guys don't have as many things to worry about…" _This is really great. I've missed being able to just talk with him. Laugh about things, just get to know him better… _"What about a colour scheme? Have you thought of one?"

"Not really…Why, what would you like?"

"White and light blue. You know, baby blue? Like the colour of the sky?"

_Like your eyes…_ "That sounds fine." _'Baby blue'. What a lovely name for it…_

"I've always thought they'd go really well together…" Christine smiled, picturing it all. Focussing on the details had the effect of taking her mind off of her worries. _It's rather fun, thinking about how everything will look. _"Oh, I forgot! Do you think a tiara would be too much? With the dress?"

"Not at all." _I have to say, it's surprisingly relaxing listening to her talking about all this…I don't know why: it sounds like it'll be extremely expensive…_

"Oh, and I'll need a veil. Maybe just a plain one. But quite long, I think. It'll need to cover all of my…"

Christine trailed off suddenly, the reality dawning on her. _My hair. My _old_ hair. The hair that's in the dustbin upstairs… _"Oh…" She tried to give Erik a reassuring smile, but she could feel her lips trembling as she did.

There was a devastated look in Erik's eyes. He sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry, Christine." His voice was barely audible. Just moments ago, he had been delighted at the thought of giving Christine anything she wanted. _And now…God, I feel awful. I've ruined everything._

"It's okay, Erik. You know it wasn't your fault…"

"But it _was_ my fault –"

"Erik, please –"

"If I hadn't been so…_stupid_…then you wouldn't have had to do this…"

"_Had_ to do this? I did it because I love you, Erik," she whispered, taking his hands in hers. "I'd do anything to keep you safe…"

They were silent for a few minutes, both deep in thought as they finished their food. _My dear Christine…so loving, caring, gentle…and yet, I've hurt her. I've hurt her so many times…but I'll do everything I can to make it up to her. All I want is for her to be happy with me…_

_Poor Erik…He really does need someone to look after him, emotionally as well as with his addiction…It's going to be really difficult to be his wife._

"Finished?"

"Mm-hm." Christine stacked the empty bowls and glasses, taking them and the spoons to the sink.

"We have a dishwasher, you know. Just leave them in there, I'll get them later."

"Okay."

Erik hesitated. "So…is there anything you want to do today?"

"I…I'd really like to see your garden again."

"_Our _garden. Of course. Oh, and you know what else we could do? It's just a pity there's no bread…although…I think we have plain popcorn in a cupboard somewhere…that should be fine for the ducks."

Christine stared at him. "The ducks? What ducks?"

"_The _ducks. Our ducks. The ones on our lake."

"Oh. The lake…" _We have a lake? Oh…of course…that's where we told the ambulance to come: the house by the lake…_

"Well, it's more of a large pond…But would you like to feed the ducks?"

Christine stared at him, a bemused look on her face. "I never thought you'd be the sort of person to like feeding ducks!"

Erik shrugged, getting up to search the cupboards. "I know it's something _you_ like doing." He thought for a moment. "There's squirrels too."

She laughed. "I guess that settles it, then!" _It _is_ a nice day to be outside. I'm sure it'll be fun. I've always loved feeding the ducks. And it'll take my mind off of thinking about…about marrying Erik. _She still felt uneasy about the fact that it would be soon. _But it'll be fine. It has to be._

"Here we are. I knew we had some." Erik handed the bag of popcorn to her, and started to make his way to the door to the garden.

"Erik?"

He stopped, turning to Christine. _What have I forgotten?_

She smiled sweetly at him. "Erik, what about the squirrels?"

_Ah. _"Of course, sweetheart." He looked in the cupboard again. "Some cashews?"

"Yeah, that's good. They'll like them."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. No decent food for us, but at least the squirrels will be happy." He took her arm, as they went through the sitting room, to the back door.

_Everything looks so beautiful… _Christine smiled, looking around the garden. The roses looked brighter than she remembered, and the heat of the sun made the air thick with their perfume. There was a gate to the side of the garden, which she supposed led out to the lake. "Erik, before we go to the lake, could we just sit here for a while?"

"Of course, Christine."

They sat down on the garden bench together, and Christine snuggled up to Erik, resting her head against his shoulder. "I just wanted to sit in the sun."

"Mm-hm. It's a lovely day." He put his arms around her, letting himself relax. _My beautiful Christine. I could sit here with her forever. _

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. A bird sang softly in the tree above them, as if to confirm to them both that this was indeed a perfect moment. _After all this time on my own, I actually feel…happy. _"What are you thinking about, Christine?" he asked her, quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing really."

Erik smiled. "I was just thinking about…us."

"Oh?" Christine closed her eyes, listening to the bird, and Erik's voice. She absent-mindedly wondered which sounded the most beautiful.

"You know, I used to sit out here all the time," he whispered, brushing strands of brown hair from Christine's face. "This is a great place to think. I'd sit out here for hours, thinking about bringing you here. Sometimes, I'd just picture what it would be like when we were finally together."

"Mm-hm." _His voice is so soothing…_Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was talking about planning to abduct her, but somehow the idea didn't disturb her as it should have.

"I thought about this, sitting out here in the sun with you. And singing with you; I thought about that all the time, too." He paused. "We haven't had the chance to sing together for a long time. Perhaps later…?"

"That'd be nice."

He grinned. "I love hearing you sing, you know. Ever since I first heard you. That was…months ago, now. Years, in fact. But even back then…I knew you were the one. And ever since then, all I've thought about is being with you."

Erik kissed Christine's cheek, and she opened her eyes slowly. "Can we…go feed the ducks now?"

He nodded, taking her arm in his again. "Through the gate. I just hope they're hungry." He chuckled, unlatching the gate.

"Are there a lot of ducks, then?"

"Just four of them. But it's been a while since I last fed them. I don't do it that often, you understand. Just every now and then, if I've nothing else to do."

Christine tried to hide a grin. "There's nothing wrong with _wanting_ to feed the ducks, you know!"

He laughed. "What can I say? I have a soft spot for birds."

As they turned around the corner of the house, the lake came into view from behind a group of trees. _Although, I suppose it _is _more of a large pond, like Erik said. But it seems wrong to call it a 'pond'…It looks so beautiful! _The lake was perhaps a little smaller than the house in size, its mirrored surface sparkling in the sunshine. A tangle of weeds and flowers grew around the sides.

"Ah, I see them."

Christine searched the surface for signs of ducks, but saw only ripples in the water near a large clump of weeds. "Behind there?" she whispered?

"Mm-hm. Mother duck just stuck her head out…oh, there they are."

The mother duck in question emerged from the weeds, followed by another duck, a little smaller than her. "Let's see, now. Mother, daughter, daughter, father…ah, a few more siblings than last time, I see…" A line of half a dozen ducklings swam after their family, their little tails moving furiously to catch up with them.

"Awww! They're so cute!" Christine watched as they moved across the water together, towards the middle of the lake. "Like little balls of fluff…Erik, do you think they'll come close enough for us to feed them?"

"They should. They always have before. They trust Erik, you know…" He crumbled up a handful of popcorn, throwing it to them. The larger ducks quickly swam towards Erik, gobbling up the crumbs from the surface of the water. The father duck looked up at him expectantly, and he threw another handful to him.

"The babies aren't getting any," Christine complained, throwing some popcorn crumbs in their direction. Their older sister quickly swallowed them. Christine shook her head, smiling. "Survival of the fittest, I guess. But you'd think their own family would let them have some."

"Hmm. It's probably better that way. Popcorn isn't particularly good for ducklings, anyway."

"No, I guess not." She sat down by the side of the lake, watching them swim. Erik sat down beside her, throwing another handful of food to them. "They're all just so…cute…"

"Mm-hm. So I've heard."

She looked up at the trees around them. "Are the squirrels around here, then?"

He nodded, gesturing to a patch of grass a few feet away. "You could leave some cashews there, perhaps."

"Yeah." Christine made a little pile of nuts for them, then sat back down next to Erik. "Do you think they'll come and get them, then?"

"Perhaps. I've never tried feeding them before."

"You haven't?"

He shook his head, giving a dismissive wave. "Rats with bushy tails."

"They are not!" She punched his arm playfully. "They're fluffy, and…cute."

"They're disease-carrying rodents that eat birds' eggs." He turned to her, grinning. "You know, there are more important things than being _cute_."

He brushed a strand of hair from Christine's face, looking deep into her eyes. She stared back at him, smiling slightly. "I know that." Gently, she touched his cheek, watching as he closed his eyes and nuzzled into her hand. _He's so kind-hearted. It's lovely to make him happy after all he's been through._

Erik opened his eyes slowly, gazing at her. "I love you, Christine. I always have. And now…" He took her hands in his, squeezing them tight. "And now we can be together. Forever." He brought her hands to his lips, kissing them softly. "We'll be together forever. Just the two of us." He laughed a little. "Well, at least until…until - " He turned to her suddenly. "You've thought about that, haven't you?" Erik asked her, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Our family? Children?"

Christine closed her eyes, biting her lip. _Yes, I've thought about that… _She nodded.

He gave a sigh, obviously relieved. "I'm glad. It's just…It's something we need to think about, hmm?"

"Mm-hm…" _I don't think 'mm-hm' is going to cut it… _"I know that," she said quietly. Her voice shook a little.

Erik noticed her hesitation. "You…you do want children, don't you?" _Oh, please say 'yes'…_

"I…I do. I…always have." She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. _I'm making Erik worry. _

He nodded slowly, smiling. "So have I. It's…something else I used to imagine. What it would be like, to…to have a son, have a daughter…" He pulled Christine close to him, hugging her tightly. "I'd love that. I've always wanted to be a father. And…and I'll do my best to be a _good _father. I used to think about that all the time: the stories I'd tell them, the games we'd play…"

Erik stopped, looking at Christine. _She looks…nervous. _He kissed her on the forehead, inwardly cursing himself. _I'm scaring her. Of course I am…Of course she doesn't want _my _children… _He decided not to go on any further. "It's…it's a little cold now, isn't it? Perhaps we should go back inside?"

Christine nodded, getting to her feet. _That was rather awkward. I really need to stop worrying about the future. Erik's going to be a wonderful father…_

He took her arm, and they walked back to the house. Christine glanced over her shoulder as they did; she noticed two little squirrels taking the cashews from the grass. She smiled. _They're so cute…This _is_ a really beautiful place to bring up children…_

They arrived back in the sitting room, and Erik gestured for her to sit down. "Can I…get you anything to drink? Or a…snack, maybe?"

"Em…No, I'm fine, thanks."

"All right." He sighed, taking a seat next to Christine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you…"

"No, it's okay." She moved closer to him, leaning her head against his chest. "I'm sorry too; I know we have to talk about stuff like that. It's just…It's just that there's so much…" She trailed off.

Erik held her tightly, trying not to cry. "I understand. If…if you've changed your mind about…about being with me - "

"What? No!" She kissed him, as passionately as she could, feeling tears fall from his eyes. "Of course I still want to marry you! I love you! It's just…" She gave him another kiss, more softly. "Everything's just happening really fast. Just…planning our wedding, and talking about _children_…"

"You're right." Erik laughed. "You're right! What was I doing earlier? Talking about churches? Wedding dresses?"

"Mm-hm."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I guess I've been a little…overenthusiastic, maybe?"

Christine grinned. "A little."

"You should have told me."

"I know. I just didn't want to upset you."

"I really am sorry. It's just with all that's happened; I was so looking forward to getting better and…moving on. I forget how difficult all this is for you." He sighed. "Can you forgive me, Christine?"

"Of course I can." She snuggled up against him. "I do like thinking about the wedding, just…It doesn't have to be soon, does it?"

"We have all the time in the world, Christine. I forget how young you still are."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Erik took Christine's hands, stroking them gently. "That ring's too big for you, isn't it?"

"Hmm? Oh, I guess so. Just a little."

"That's all right. I'll get it resized for you. We'll have to think about getting wedding rings as well…sorry, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"That's okay!" She paused. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. A little tired, maybe. But not enough to sleep yet."

"Mm-hm. I guess I'm the same. Tell me if you get too tired, though, and we'll go to bed together." _I need to make sure he gets the rest he needs to get better…hang on…did I just say, "we'll go to bed together"? _Hesitantly, she looked up at Erik, watching him as he tried not to laugh. "I…I meant…"

"'At the same time', I know." He chuckled. "Shall we…leave _that_ topic for another day?"

Christine blushed. "I…I guess so…"

"I mean, we _can_ talk about it now, if you like…"

"No, that's okay!" _Although…although saying that, we really do have to talk about it, don't we? It's pretty important…_ "But…you know. I'm not ready for that yet."

"I know that. Don't worry." He kissed her forehead, stroking her hair. "I certainly don't want to rush you into that. In fact…" He grinned. "Call me old-fashioned, maybe, but…I always thought that we should get married first. That way…that way, we'd stand there, making our vows to each other…I'd promise to love you, to be faithful to you forever, to give myself completely to you, and then…" He'd averted his gaze up until then, too nervous to look at her, but he forced himself to look Christine in the eyes, determined to show her that he meant every word he said. "And then, that night…I'd fulfil that promise in the flesh…I'd give myself to you completely, show you how I loved you with all of my heart, how I never wanted to leave you. And…how grateful I was to you, that you would give me such a gift as your virginity. Or that of all the men in the world, you'd chosen me. To be my wife…and I your husband. Even though…even though I could never be worthy of such a thing. And yet, you'd accepted me for who I was, even with all of my flaws…you still wanted to be with _me_…until death parted us."

Christine stared at him, feeling tears well up. "Erik…" She embraced him tightly, kissing him. She could feel his heart racing in his chest. _Oh, for him to tell me all that…It must have been so difficult to open up to me the way he did…I know for sure now. He's perfect. A wonderful man. _

They held each other for a while, neither sure of what to say. Eventually Christine spoke. "You…you wanted to sing with me again?"

"Yes, of course. I'll get the harp. What shall we sing first?"

"_Ave Maria_?"

"Schubert. Of course."

For the next few hours, the house by the lake was filled with music.

* * *

"How many reported sightings are we up to now?" asked Thomson.

Officer Bailey, a young man in his early thirties, held out his hands, several inches apart, like a fisherman with an invisible fish. The meaning was obvious: the stack of papers about reported sightings was nearly a foot high.

"That many? What is that, fifty, sixty?"

"No, sir. Eighty-four, I think."

Thomson sighed. The other three members of the investigation team sighed softly in agreement. "Well, as you all know by now, our last lead…well, it didn't lead anywhere. So we're back to square one, I'm afraid."

"Again? Can we try talking to the bar staff again? They might have some more information - "

"I think we've gathered everything we can from them, Bailey. You've had a look through these reports?"

Bailey shrugged. "Skimmed them, sir. Nothing's jumping out at me, though…"

Thomson sighed again. _Well this will be fun… _"Get the papers over here then. We'll just have to sort through them all."

The stack was brought to the coffee table in front of the five officers. "Eighty-four, huh? There's been a large increase in sightings this past week, then."

"That's down to the increase in publicity," Whiteford suggested, taking a muffin from the plate in front of her. "We've expanded to newspapers and magazines. The Herald, the Bugle, the Express…"

"And teen magazines?"

She grinned. "See, that'll work, trust me. And her photo's all over the web. Someone'll find her. It's a matter of time."

"It is rather a double-edged sword, unfortunately," admitted Saleem, sipping his coffee. "An increased chance of finding her, along with a lot of false alarms."

"Mm-hm." Detective Inspector Thomson made a few notes, before turning back to Saleem. "Nothing to report?"

"No, sir. As I said before, I highly doubt that the man responsible for this was known to Miss Daaé. And with the evidence we have…or, to be more precise, the lack of evidence…This was someone who knew what they were doing."

"No more calls from the kidnapper, I take it? But I suppose you'd tell me if we had any…"

"None. Which is perhaps just as well."

Thomson looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that the equipment we're using to track the calls…It keeps cutting out. We've tried replacing it several times, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. Interference, perhaps…But as Mr Daaé has told us that the kidnapper doesn't appear to be interested in money, then it would seem unlikely that he would call again."

"Hmm. I think I already know the answer to this but…any news from forensics, Reid?"

Reid pushed his glasses further up his nose, flipping through his papers. "There…there hasn't been a lot of progress, sir. Mostly, we're working on analysing the sedative that was used…you know? In Christine's drink?"

"Of course. Nothing yet?"

"Not really, sir. It's a very complicated mixture. At least twelve different chemicals blended together…The lab geeks are quite fascinated by it all."

"As I told you before," Saleem said, stroking his beard. "Someone who knew what they were doing."

Thomson nodded. "Oh, well…Settle down. It's going to be a long night, gentlemen. And…madam. We have to get these reports sorted. I'm sure there'll be some we can eliminate straight away…Probably the vast majority of them, in fact…"

Each member of the team sat back in their chairs, trying to make themselves comfortable. Although each officer had seen their fair share of cases in their life, every one of them would rate the Daaé case as one of the most upsetting they had ever worked on. Having frustratingly little evidence to go on was bad enough, as was the very real possibility that they would never be able to find the young woman, or at least, find her unharmed. But what made things all the more difficult was just how well-loved Christine was. It was heart-breaking when Christine's friends called the police station, asking if they had found her yet. And Mr Daaé…well, he spoke with the team at least twice a day. And not just over the phone; no, he actually came to visit them face-to-face, always visibly distraught. Which made them all the more determined to find her.

"All right, then. Bailey, will you take notes?"

Bailey nodded, taking the report number down, and using his other hand to motion to the others to pass him a muffin. Sugar was good for keeping the spirits up.

"Interesting. A Mr Richard Taylor here claiming he saw a girl resembling Miss Daaé during his trip to Buenos Aires. Says she was with another girl, about the same age, and an older couple. The witness here tells us, and I quote, 'Well, I'm not sure it was that Daaé girl, but I thought I should call in and tell you just in case'. Enclosed here also is a photograph of the girl he saw, taken by Mr Taylor using his mobile phone."

There was silence for a few seconds as the five of them peered over the photograph inside the report folder. "She literally looks nothing like her," Whiteford said eventually.

"I think it's pretty obvious that it's just some random blonde teenager. Why would you even bother taking a photo of her?"

"Perhaps Mr Taylor is simply in the habit of photographing young Argentinian girls?" Saleem commented, a wry smile playing on his lips. This gained a laugh from the rest of the team, despite their tiredness.

"All right." Thomson shook his head, putting the file to one side. "I think it's safe to class this one as very implausible, and not worth pursuing further?"

"Agreed."

"Moving on, then." He picked up the next report. "Let's see…Brilliant. This one's from a Mrs Jacobs, who says she saw someone she thinks, and I quote, 'looked like the photo on the news' in the backseat of a passing car whilst she was out walking her dog. She doesn't know the make or model of the car, didn't see the person who was driving, can't remember the street she was on at the time, because she tells us, quote, 'I didn't think about it till later, but it really did look like her'. However, she was helpful enough to tell the person who answered her phone call both the name and breed of her dog."

"Oh, well, then. The lab'll be very interested to hear about that, I'm sure. Jess, are there any muffins left?"

"No, but there's some brownies."

Officer Reid shrugged. "They'll have to do, then. Are all of them like this, Bob?"

Bailey nodded. "Pretty much."

"You know, I have two cases of homicide I could be working on right now." His voice sounded irritated, but it was clear to everyone that his heart wasn't in what he said. He was just as eager to find Miss Daaé as the rest of them were.

"We'll call this one 'very implausible'," Thomson muttered. "You have the report number, Bailey?"

"Mm-hm."

The next hour passed in a similar way. The team found themselves sifting through dozens of obviously unreliable reports, but with no other leads to go on, they had little choice but to keep searching. They tried to keep their spirits up by making jokes and getting coffee.

"Let's see…I think we're about halfway through, now…"

"I'm going to get some more coffee," Saleem announced, heading to the drinks machine in the corner of the room.

"All right. This one is from a Miss Eugenia Linden. Says she saw Christine during her shift at Newton hospital."

"Oh, a doctor? That's good…"

"Receptionist." Thomson flicked through the report. "She says she – Miss Daaé, I mean – was staying at the hospital for two weeks looking after an older man who was admitted following a morphine overdose. Miss Linden didn't recognise her until he was discharged, when she saw her photo in…oh, it was one of those teen magazines…"

"Told you! You owe me a drink, Harry!"

"Yeah, okay…"

"Although, Miss Linden tells us that the girl's hair had been dyed brown, and cut. Also, she thinks her eyes may have been brown instead of blue."

Bailey looked up from his notes. "So…she looked completely different to Christine, then? I mean, a haircut, I get, but eye colour…"

"Contact lenses, Mr Bailey." Saleem added sugar to his coffee.

"Still, though…Did she get a photo?"

Thomson shook his head. "Not of the girl. It was only when she was leaving that she recognised her, so I suppose it was too late. But luckily, one of her colleagues had taken a photograph of the man she was with a couple of days before."

Officer Whiteford frowned. "What? That doesn't make sense…Why would they take a photo of him before they thought he was with Miss Daaé?"

Thomson grinned. "You'll see." He took the photo from the report file, putting it down in the middle of the coffee table. The three other investigators gasped.

"Wow. Poor guy."

Thomson nodded. "We've really only got her word to go on, but we'll get the police force in Newton to check it out, just in case. But I doubt we'll get anything."

"Seriously, the man is scary looking. What do you think?"

"Hmm?" Saleem looked up, still stirring his coffee.

Reid held the photo up for him to see.

Without warning, the coffee cup slipped from Saleem's hands, spilling to the floor.

"Sir? You okay?" Reid got up from his seat. "Firouz, man, what's wrong?"

"It's him. It's Erik." He took the photo from Reid's hand, still staring at it. "Erik. I would never have _dreamed_ he could do something like this…Yet it makes sense. When was the report made?"

There was a pause before Thomson reacted. "Oh…Five days ago. They left the hospital that afternoon; the report was made that evening…"

"Five days." Firouz Saleem stroked his beard contemplatively. "And they have a record of Erik's address?"

"They…they do." Thomson looked at him strangely. "It also gives his name as _Isaac _Rasmussen - "

He ignored the comment. "We have to get down there. Immediately."

"Do you think that was Christine?"

"It's possible. It's very possible. It explains the lack of forensic evidence, the sedative, the _motive_…However, regardless of who that girl was, Mr Thomson, we must arrest Erik at once."

"Saleem, if I may ask you a question: Who is Erik?"

"Oh, a very good question, sir. One with a complex answer. Erik is an architect and designer, a musician and composer. Some would even call him a genius. But he is also a well-trained assassin, wanted for sixty-three counts of murder across five countries, as well as numerous other charges. Now it seems he is also guilty of abduction…I only hope Miss Daaé is unharmed…As I said, we must arrest Erik immediately."

Firouz's voice was full of authority, and Thomson found himself unable to question him. "So…we'll have the Newton police force take him into custody - "

"No. I must be there for his arrest. We'll be dealing with a highly dangerous individual. Much can go wrong."

"I'm sure they've dealt with dangerous criminals before, Saleem."

"That's true. But I can assure you that they will never have dealt with someone like Erik before. A very different matter. It requires someone with…experience in cases such as this."

"Is this like…what you did in Iran, then, Firouz?" Whiteford asked him.

"Yes. I've had to deal with Erik before, on many occasions. He's almost like…oh, an old friend now. I had hoped he had changed his ways but…it would appear not. No matter…He won't evade me this time…" Firouz smiled, his green eyes sparkling. "This time, I will catch him."

* * *

**Read and review, guys!**

**KittyPimms: Yeah, it's a very Erik thing to say, I guess! And…yeah, I have given you quite a lot to worry about, haven't I? Sorry…**

**Bookgirl13: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it so far!**

**Tbnasib3: Well, thanks, that's great to know! Next time, I'll just write an author's note instead of a story…that'll save me some time!**

**emeraldphan: Thanks, it was really tricky to research, glad it all paid off in the end! And I'm glad you liked the proposal!**

**StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Sorry, I'm terrible for doing cliffhangers. But it keeps people reading, hopefully…See, I really didn't have to research the chapter at all, in that case! Could have saved me some time…**

**Larxa the Writer: Thanks! Yeah, it was fun writing that section. Always fun to write about someone getting into trouble…**

**MusicalLover17: Thanks!**

** xxxxxxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, guys! I've been so busy. I started university, and I've had so many essays to write…But the good news is, they're all finished now! Yay!**

**Here's another chapter for you. Enjoy!**

**Jegsy Scarr**

**xxx**

* * *

"I think the ducks are getting hungrier."

"Hmm. I think so." Erik took a step back from the water's edge, handing his half-empty bag of popcorn to Christine. "You can feed them the rest."

The seriousness of his tone concerned her. "Is it…happening again?"

Erik shrugged, sitting down on the grass. "It's always happening, Christine."

She sat down beside him. The sunlight felt warm on her skin. _Such a beautiful day, and Erik can't enjoy it. _"I mean, is it getting worse?"

"I think it's just more noticeable when I'm bored." He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. "Feeding ducks isn't the most stimulating activity in the world."

"We could…do something else instead? If you wanted to?"

Erik shook his head. "I don't think it would make a difference. You can carry on feeding the ducks if you want…"

"No, it's okay." Christine took his hands in hers, stroking them gently. "Is it getting any easier, though?" She regretted the question as soon as it had left her mouth. It was a stupid question. It had been almost a week since they had come home from the hospital, and Erik seemed to be struggling as much as he had when they had first arrived back. _Honestly, Christine, does it _look _like it's getting easier for him?_

He sighed, and Christine could sense his impatience. "It won't get easier, Christine. Not really. This is something I'll probably have to deal with for the rest of my life."

She nodded, unsure of what to say. _I probably shouldn't open my mouth again, or I'll say something else wrong._

Erik got up suddenly, pulling his hands away from her. "Let's go inside."

Christine followed him back to the house quickly. She was angry with herself for having upset him the way she had. _What was I thinking? If I want to help Erik get better, then I have to be more careful. _She tried to take Erik's hand again; he didn't pull away this time, but he gripped her hand loosely, like he was holding the hand of a stranger. _I really have upset him, haven't I?_

"Do you…want something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry, Christine." He settled into his armchair, closing his eyes. _It's too much. I can't do this…and yet, I have to try. For Christine. _

"Something to drink, then?" she asked him tentatively.

He thought for a moment. "I think I'll have Chianti."

"Wine?"

"Yes, Christine, _wine_. I've had enough water and fruit juice in the past week to last a lifetime."

Christine hesitated, biting her lip. "I…I still think you should -"

"Fine, I'll get it myself." Erik got up and made his way to the kitchen. "Honestly, what do you think will happen if I have a drink?"

"I…just think you should wait until you're feeling better, Erik. That's all. Once the cravings have worn off a little…"

He wrenched open the door of the wine cupboard and started searching through the racks. "I've told you already, Christine. The cravings aren't going to go away any time soon. This could take…there's no Chianti left…This could take weeks. Months, even." He pulled a bottle from one of the racks, taking it to the kitchen counter. "Could you get me a glass?"

"Erik, please…" She took his arm and tried to steer him towards the living room again.

He shrugged her off, walking to the cupboard. "I'll get it. Do you want a drink?" He brought two wine glasses, and handed one to Christine.

"Erik…"

"It's Amarone," he told her, picking up a corkscrew from the countertop. "Try some. I think you'd like it."

"I don't want any…Erik, _please_."

He started to pour himself a glass, but she grabbed the bottle and tried to pull it away from him. "Christine, sit down: you'll spill it."

"Put it down," she said, in a voice so stern that she surprised herself. "Put it down _now_."

Erik stopped. He set the bottle down on the table with a bang, and sat down opposite her slowly, his eyes fixed on her. When he spoke again, his voice was deathly cold. "What did you say to me?"

She looked away from him, taking a deep breath. "I just think you should -"

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that. You know, this doesn't concern you, Christine." Erik raised the half-filled glass to his lips, but Christine stopped him before he could take a sip.

"You think this doesn't concern me, Erik? I've spent almost three weeks doing _everything_ I can to help you get over this addiction, and you think I should just stand by and let you do this?"

"Let me do what?"

"You're craving the morphine. You said yourself: you're going to have to deal with the cravings for the rest of your life. So you have to learn to deal with them without drinking…"

"Oh, I _have_ to, do I?"

Christine took his hands firmly in hers. "The second the cravings got too difficult, you wanted something to drink. You can't do that every time. All that'll happen is you'll go from morphine addict to alcoholic."

In his heart, he knew she was right, but it would wound his pride too much to admit it to her. "How do you _know_ that, Christine? You act as if you understand all of this, but you don't understand _anything_. You don't know what I'm going through."

"No, I _don't_ know, Erik. But I want to help you, and I know that _this…_" – she picked up the Amarone bottle – "…is not going to help you."

"If you know so much about it, then why don't you tell me what _will_ help me?"

Christine shook her head. "I don't know, Erik. But maybe it's best if we get rid of all of this alcohol -"

"Absolutely not."

"Or put it somewhere else, then. So you won't be tempted to use it -"

"And that reminds me, Christine. What did you do with my morphine?"

She stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about, Erik?"

"You _know _what I'm talking about, Christine. I looked in my bathroom cabinet: it's _empty_. So what did you do with everything I had in there?"

She suddenly remembered removing the morphine from his bathroom the day she had gone back to fetch supplies. _What _did _I do with everything? I…I threw it away, didn't I? _"I got rid of it, Erik."

For a moment, he was silent, as though the words needed time to sink in. "You did _what_?"

"I threw it away. I got rid of it all." She struggled to keep her voice steady, afraid of how he would react. _But I'm not backing down…_

"Why? Why would you do that, Christine?"

"Because it's killing you, Erik! That's why I had to -"

"You went behind Erik's back. You had _no_ right to do that -"

"What would you have done with it anyway, Erik? You swore you wouldn't use that stuff ever again…"

"That's not the _point_, Christine! You _do not_ go behind my back, do you hear me?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes in frustration. "You know what; I'm not listening to this." She turned to leave. "Just do whatever you want."

"_Christine…_" He grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her to turn back to face him.

"Erik…" She tried to push him away; this time, he grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her towards him.

"Don't you _dare_. Don't walk away from me."

She could feel his fingers digging into her flesh. It hurt. "Let me go, Erik!" She tried again to wriggle free, but only succeeded in making him hold onto her more firmly.

"_Listen_ to me, Christine; you do not -"

"Erik, you're _hurting_ me. Please let go."

Erik let go of her suddenly, stepping back from her as if her skin had burned him. As Christine stared at him, she could see the anger draining from his face. "Oh, Christine…" He dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Christine knelt on the floor beside him. She hesitated, then reached out to embrace him. He hugged her tightly to his chest, still crying. _My poor Erik…_

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Christine." _What have I done to her? _He kissed her, his tears falling onto her face. "I…I'll get rid of it, Christine. I'll…Whatever you want; I'll do it, Christine."

"Erik, it's okay…" She brushed the tears from his eyes and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Everything's going to be fine now."

"Christine, I'm so sorry…" _She must hate me now. She'll leave me… _It didn't occur to him that she _couldn't _leave him, even if she wanted to. "I didn't mean to yell at you, I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"I know." She half-smiled at him. "I know it's difficult. That's okay. But I need you to let me _help_ you, Erik. Please let me help."

"Mm-hm." He closed his eyes, and she could see he was trying not to cry again. "Do you…Do you still…love me, Christine?"

"Oh, Erik…" she whispered, kissing him again. "Of _course _I love you. You know I do." Taking his hand, she helped him up from the kitchen floor. "Come on, let's just put the wine away. And you can come and sit with me, hmm? Or we could sing?"

"I don't know. Maybe later." He emptied the wine glass into the sink. "But right now, I'm just so tired…"

"I know. Maybe you should try to sleep?"

"It's not that kind of tired."

"Well, just come and sit with me, then. Just sit and…" She stopped, watching him as he emptied the entire bottle of Amarone down the drain. _Wow. I didn't think he'd do that. _"Just sit with me, and try to relax.

"All right." He walked back through to the living room with her, feeling very weary. _It can't go on like this. I have to get better soon, or I'll lose her. _He sat back in his armchair, trying his best to relax.

Christine sat next to him, resting her head on his chest. _He sounds exhausted. _Even his breathing sounded tired. He started stroking her arm gently, and she closed her eyes. _I wish it was always this peaceful. But it must be so difficult for him to go through all this. He just seems so stressed all the time… _

Several minutes had elapsed, when Christine came up with an idea. "Erik, let me try something."

"Hmm?"

"Sit forward a little. Just a little. And turn around."

He did so, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Christine, what are you doing?" She started to rub his shoulders, and he relaxed. "Ah, I see…"

"How's that?"

"It's…wonderful, Christine. Thank you."

"I thought you looked stressed." _I just hope this helps him a little. _She worked on his shoulder-blades, leaning over to kiss his cheek as she did. _He's so thin. I can feel every bone in his body, I think. I need to be so careful. He's fragile, like glass…_"It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, it's perfect." He grinned. "You know, I've never had a back massage before."

"Never? Really?"

"You're surprised?"

"It's just…You never went to a spa, or got your…friends to?" She had almost said 'family', but had stopped herself just in time. "Meg and I used to take turns at sleepovers."

He chuckled. "That sounds like a very feminine thing to do…"

"Yeah, I guess so…"

"Anyway, I told you, Christine: I've never had any friends. And besides that, I…" He sighed. "You know how difficult it is for me to trust anyone? To be close to anyone?"

"But…you trust me?"

Erik turned his head towards her, smiling. "I do. I know you won't hurt me, Christine."

_Oh, Erik. I'd never hurt you, my angel… _She started massaging his shoulders again. Her eyes were drawn to her engagement ring as she did. "Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you…tell me that story again? About the rose?"

"You liked that story, then?"

"I loved it. It was really beautiful; I'd like to hear it again…Unless you're too tired, that is…"

_Oh, Christine…You know your Erik would do anything for you… _"It's fine, Christine." He cleared his throat. "At the beginning of the world, when all things were created, there lived a nightingale. And of all the birds of the air he was by far the most vain, conceit-" He froze, mid-word.

"Erik?" Christine tapped his shoulder, worried. "Erik, what's wrong?"

"I heard something."

"What?"

He got up, walking to the hallway. "Outside. There's something…" He paused on the spot, listening intently. "Cars. Christine, get back from the windows."

_This can't be good. _She stayed as still as she could, watching as Erik slowly made his way towards the window to look outside. When he was a few feet away, she saw the colour suddenly drain from his face.

"Erik…"

He seized her hand, pulling her back to the sitting room. "Police. Follow me, Christine."

"Oh, my God…"

"It'll be all right, Christine, just follow me…Step back from the carpet."

_What? _She stood up against the bookcase, watching as Erik pulled the burgundy rug from the floor and packed it into a cabinet. _What is he doing? Is that evidence, or something? _She shut her eyes tightly, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. _What happens when they find us? Will they arrest Erik?_

She heard a series of sharp metallic clicks, and she opened her eyes again, wiping away her tears. Erik was standing at the mantelpiece with his back to her. "What are you…?"

There was a sudden grating sound from under her feet, and Christine watched in disbelief as a door opened in the centre of the floor. "There's…a trap-door?"

Erik held out his hand to her and gestured for her to follow him. "Come on. Hurry."

_I can't believe this…and yet, why _am_ I surprised? This is Erik, after all. He sleeps in a coffin: this is almost normal by his standards… _She followed him down the ladder into the darkness. It seemed such a long way down, and she was relieved when she felt Erik's arms catching her as she reached the bottom.

A light flickered on in the corner of the small room. She blinked several times trying to get her eyes to adjust, while Erik closed the trap-door. "Why…is there a trap-door in your house?"

He shrugged. "I love trap-doors. We can hide in here until they leave. If they're searching for me, then they shouldn't be here very long. Unless they have a search warrant, too; in which case, they could be here a few days."

"A few _days_?"

"Well, there's food here, too." Christine glanced around the little room. There were several large boxes piled in a corner. Even so, she didn't see how they could stay down there for more than a day or so.

Erik took her in his arms, kissing her. "It's only for a little while, Christine. We'll be free soon."

"I know…"

There was a muffled thud upstairs, and Christine started. "Shhh…Come and sit down…"

"What was that?"

"The front door. I think. Don't worry." He hugged her tightly. "It's going to be all right, Christine."

She laid her head against his chest. He sounded as though he was confident, but she could hear that his heart was pounding.

Voices came from upstairs, faint, but becoming gradually clearer. _"…search next door…Bailey…upstairs and search…" _

They heard footsteps above them. Christine shuddered and snuggled closer to Erik. _"There's a garden. Reid, check outside."_

Several sets of footsteps crossed the room. The floorboards creaked. _"Is there a back entrance?" _A female voice.

"_Just this one. Reid's team is covering it." _Erik listened intently. _I've heard that voice before…It's that detective Thomson._

The sounds continued above their heads. Erik held Christine even closer to him, trying to comfort her. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

"_We've cleared upstairs, sir." _A third voice. _"There's nothing here?"_

"_Nothing. And nothing upstairs?"_

"_There's no one there, sir. You'll want to have a look at the bedroom later, though. It's…pretty disturbing, actually."_

"_If upstairs is cleared, you could begin collecting evidence. If the perpetrator is not at home, then we -"_

"_You think he's not at home, sir?"_

Erik stiffened. He could barely breathe. _That voice…_

"_The house is empty, Saleem. As far as we can tell…"_

"_His car is in the driveway. Glasses sitting out in the kitchen…" _More footsteps. _"And the armchair's still warm. No, they're here. It's simply a matter of where…" _

"Erik?" Christine stared at him. "Are you okay? They won't find us, Erik…"

He didn't answer her. _It's him… _When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. "Daroga…"

"_And, if I know Erik, he'll be prepared for this. Probably a secret room built into the house." _

"_Built _into_ the house?"_

"_Oh, this house is one of Erik's creations. He has a rather distinctive style. _

_He knows Erik? _Christine was beginning to panic. She had always considered Erik to be the most intelligent man she'd ever met, and that no one could ever outsmart him. _But he figured it out so quickly...What if he finds us here? _

The footsteps started again, slow and pronounced, a steady beat crisscrossing the room. _He's pacing, _Erik thought. _He always did that when he was thinking. God, I could kill him. _

"_Saleem?"_

"_Hush. Quiet, please. Let me focus. I imagine that if he has planned for this situation and has a secret room built to hide in, then it would have to be in an accessible location. I've known him in the past to have built passageways to connect buildings to locations hundreds of feet away." _More footsteps. _"But, of course…I doubt Erik would dig a tunnel into the hillside. So…a secret room it must be. Upstairs? It's a possibility. A room adjoining his bedroom, or the attic. But I should think downstairs to be a more practical location for him. Therefore…"_

The pacing halted suddenly; it seemed as if he had stopped directly above them. _"Ah. Of course." _They heard him give the floor several sharp taps with his foot. _"Do you hear that? The floorboards here have a different timbre to the rest of the floor. There's something under here…Do you hear me, Erik? I'm right above your head…Now, gentlemen, all we have to do now is discover how to open the trap-door. It's usually some kind of lever, pulley system, or pivot. It's just a case of finding it now. Normally, he builds it into the walls. I'll begin there."_

"Erik?" Christine looked at him, desperate for him to tell her how they would get out. Did he know? "_Erik_?"

For several moments, he couldn't answer her, and she was terrified that he was going to tell her that he had no idea of how they would escape. But eventually, he spoke. "Do you trust me, Christine?"

"Yes, of course…" She would trust Erik with her life.

"I love you, Christine. And I promise: no matter what happens, I won't leave you. Even…even if they…if they take you away from me…I promise I will find you again." He felt tears welling up, stifling his throat. "We will be together again, Christine…we _will_ be. No matter what happens. I promise. I…promise: you will be mine…"

He reached for one of the cardboard boxes at his side, pulling from it a smaller plastic container: a first aid kit. Christine looked inside as he opened it, trying to figure out why Erik wanted it. It seemed ordinary enough, although it looked as if it was stocked to treat more serious injuries. Bandages, a small scalpel, saline solution, scissors, some little metal wires, a tube of surgical glue, tweezers …And syringes. She watched in horror as Erik rolled up his sleeve. "_No_," she breathed. "_Erik_…"

"Trust me, Christine."

"But you…You can't …" She bit her lip. "I don't want you to hurt yourself. I don't want you to do this…"

He shook his head. "I _have_ to do this, Christine."

"_What?_" She couldn't take her eyes off of his arm. Even in the dim light, she saw the mess of scars and puncture wounds that covered it. _He's going to hurt himself again…_ "Erik, _please_…" She couldn't argue with him; she could hear tapping from upstairs as the man searched for the way into the trap-door. She couldn't risk him hearing her speak, or hear a struggle between herself and Erik. _And I couldn't fight him anyway. He's too strong._

"I need you to _trust _me, Christine. And hold me."

Christine did so, tears falling from her eyes. There was nothing else she could do now; she couldn't stop him. God, she couldn't stop him…But she would hold him close to her, like she had done for so many nights in the hospital. Despite his failings, she knew in her heart she would always love this poor, broken man.

He sat with his back to the wall; when she wrapped her arms around him, he pulled her closer until she was tightly pressed against him. Christine hid her face in his neck. She couldn't watch. In a heart-breaking instant, she felt Erik's arms letting go of her, but she continued to hold him through her tears.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out from her mind what Erik was doing just behind her back, but quickly realised it was impossible. There was a sharp intake of breath close to her ear – her brain flooded with images of needles piercing Erik's skin. Desperately, she tried to ignore the sound of his teeth grinding together; he was obviously making a hopeless attempt to dull the pain. _It must really hurt him. _She remembered how painful vaccinations in school had been. _This must be worse than that. Really painful…But morphine's a painkiller, so it must make the pain go away in the end. _The irony was almost darkly amusing, but there was no way Christine could bring herself to laugh. She could hear Erik quietly crying beside her. Covering his neck with kisses, she whispered to him that she loved him very much, as she listened to the tapping and strange voices above her.

It was over now. The first aid supplies clacked together softly as Erik replaced them back in the container, and into the cardboard box. Christine pulled away from him to see him again, but she blanched and quickly turned away as she saw him fixing his left sleeve.

"There's no blood, Christine: it's fine."

She nodded, but was still afraid to look at him. "I…thought there would be…"

"There _was _blood. It's gone now."

Slowly, she raised her face to his. She loved him, and he'd hurt her again. _This time was the worst of all_, she thought. "How could you do it, Erik?"

The tapping suddenly stopped. "I did what I had to do, Christine."

"_Ah…Here we have it, gentlemen. Give me a moment more."_

"But you didn't _have_ to…You tried so _hard_…"

Erik stared strangely at her, as if he didn't understand what she meant. Then after a moment, comprehension dawned across his face. "Christine, it's not what you…" He stopped. A smile began to play in his eyes. He shrugged slightly. "I tried hard, yes. It's a pity. But never mind." He kissed her, still trying to keep his face composed.

"Erik, you…"

"Hush, now." He gently stroked her face, wincing as he brushed a tear away with his left hand. "God, that hurts…" He rubbed his forearm.

Several metallic clicks. _"Yes! Ready, Thomson?" _Footsteps above their heads. The trap-door grated against the floorboards. _"Remember what I told you, gentlemen. Your hands – raised to your eyes."_

The door was suddenly pulled wide open. Sunlight flooded down to where the two of them were huddled together. Erik's arms were vice-like around her.

Ghostly shadows in the bright light, as Christine looked up, petrified. Her eyes readjusted, and she saw several police officers looking down at them, each holding a hand to their face. Most of them held a gun in their free hand.

For several seconds, no one moved or said a word. One of the men eventually leaned forward towards them, pointing his gun in Erik's direction. "Erik?"

Christine felt Erik's chest rising and falling rapidly. She couldn't tell if he was more afraid or angry.

"Your hands in the air, now. Where I can see them."

Erik didn't move. His hold around Christine did not relax; he seemed almost unfazed by the gun aimed at his head.

Firouz's eyes sparkled, like emeralds set in his pale brown skin. He almost looked amused. "Come on, Erik. You must realise how hopeless your situation is? If I were you, I'd come quietly."

Hesitantly, Christine turned to Erik, who was glaring almost unblinkingly back at the officer. To her, they seemed almost like wolves, each trying to stare the other down.

"Let the girl go." He raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to have to shoot you, Erik. You have a fine mind, which would do well without a bullet through it."

Christine gave a cry, and tried to dive in front of Erik, but he held her in place.

"What is it to be, Erik? Do you want me to shoot you?"

"Damn you, Daroga."

"Hands up."

Erik loosened his grip on Christine. Planting one last kiss upon her lips, he raised his hands above his head. Within seconds, Firouz had descended the ladder and wrestled him to the floor.

"_No!_" Christine threw herself at the man, determined to pull him off of Erik. She knew she wasn't strong, but she would try.

Firouz easily deflected her, gently but firmly pushing her out of his way. He wrenched Erik's arms behind his back and secured his wrists with a pair of handcuffs. "Erik Rossignol, you are under arrest for the abduction of Christine Daaé. You - "

Gathering all of her strength, Christine struck him across the face. Two more policemen took her by the arms, dragging her away from Firouz, who had faltered in his speech, but had retained his hold on Erik. Struggling and lashing out, she was carried to the ladder, handed up to the room above, all the time screaming for Erik. Her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest. Her lungs would explode. Surely, she couldn't survive away from Erik? The very thought of it was suffocating.

Several police officers had swarmed around her, trying to move her away from the trap-door. Outnumbered though she was, she resisted them as best she could. The rational part of Christine's mind seemed to have switched off completely, and she lashed out in all directions. She managed to get close enough to the trap-door to see down into the room. Erik's face was hidden from her view by more officers, but she saw he was still on the floor. She strained her ears to hear fragments of what was being said by Firouz over the voices of the other policemen trying to pull her back.

"…you understand, Erik?"

"Firouz, you bastard…"

A policewoman tugged at her shoulder, and Christine pulled away from her as if she had been burned. She could hear them behind her discussing how best to restrain her without hurting her. Part of her couldn't understand why they weren't wrestling her to the ground like they had with Erik; she had almost forgotten that she wasn't the one being arrested.

"…taking you for questioning…in addition to abduction, you are charged…counts of aggravated murder, twenty-seven counts of…"

_Murder? _Christine froze, panicking. _They think he's killed people? Oh, God…But they're wrong….They have the wrong man…_

Overwhelmed by shock, Christine was unable to move, and the police made the most of their opportunity. She felt herself being picked up by several of them, and carried quickly out of the room. She cried out and started to struggle again, but felt drained of energy, and too stunned to fight back properly. Tears were streaming down her face and she couldn't wipe them away. Her head felt dizzy as the furniture of her home swept past her on the way to the front door, which had been forced open as Erik had thought. A few police cars were parked outside, and Christine was put into the backseat of one, in between two police officers. A third got into the driver's seat.

Something clicked inside Christine's head. _They're taking me away from him…_ She wouldn't let them. Her hands grabbed for the door-handle as the engine roared into life, but it was locked. _No…I can't stay in here…_ "I have to get out. You have to let me _out_!"

The window. If she could get it open, she could get out. The officers on either side pulled her back as she attempted to wind it down, but she managed to open it a few inches, before it stuck. Of course: it didn't open the whole way. Windows didn't in police cars, just as doors didn't open from the inside. How could she have forgotten that? _Now what? _

The car was already in motion. Christine watched as the house got farther and farther away. "I…have to get out…" _What will Erik do without me? What will I do without _him_?_

This was too awful. And just when Christine felt as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, she noticed that her finger was bare. Erik's engagement ring was gone. Frantically, she searched the floor and seat of the car, but she quickly realised that it wasn't there. She must have lost it somewhere. In the cellar, inside the house, outside in the grass – she didn't know. But it was gone. And with nothing more to lose, Christine put her face in her hands, and sobbed.

"Shhh." The policewoman beside her tried to comfort her with a hug. "We're taking you back to the police station, okay? I know what you've been through must have been difficult, but we're going to help you get better. There'll be doctors there, people you can talk to."

Tears continued to fall. She shook her head weakly. She wanted to explain how Erik was a good man, and would never hurt her, and that she loved him so much. But she knew they would never believe her. No matter what she said, they wouldn't take her back to him.

"We'll call your dad to let him know you're safe, and we'll bring him to the station. You'll see him soon."

Christine closed her eyes. Completely exhausted, and with nothing else to do, she fell asleep in the policewoman's arms, as the car took her away from Erik.

* * *

**You know the drill! Please read and review!**

**MusicalLover17: Thanks! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Swann: Well, I'll see what I can do…**

**emeraldphan: Glad you enjoyed it! Yes, things have just gotten complicated…Oh, and I'm glad you're enjoying The Hunger Games! Such a great series!**

**Lyricalmiracle134: lol! Everyone seems to think it's cool that I'm Scottish! And yes, you really should visit Scotland someday, because it's really awesome over here…**

**KittyPimms: Yeah, I guess it's a pretty brave thing to do. And yes, I love squirrels, too. Once, I got one to almost eat a peanut out of my hand (it knocked it out of my hand, and then ate it). But Erik's more of a bird person, I think…Yeah, I guess all good things (including fluff) must come to an end. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Princess-Of-Your-Doom95: Aww, thanks! Yes, this definitely wasn't in Erik's plans! But he'll figure something out, I'm sure.**

**ForeverLily: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!**

** xxxxxxx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey, guys!**

**Here's the latest chapter! Just to let you know, I've been a little more…blunt with some of the stuff in here. You'll probably see what I mean. I'm perhaps being overly-cautious, but just in case…**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx****  
**

* * *

It was quiet inside the car when Christine woke up. The officers were still there, but the car was now motionless, and she supposed that they had arrived back at the police station. Cautiously, she raised her head, looking around her. Her face felt damp, and she could tell that her nose had been running. Her tears had formed little watery pools on the policewoman's blouse.

"Sorry," she croaked, almost automatically.

"Hmm? Oh, that's okay, sweetie…Harry, do you have a tissue?"

"Oh." The other officer fumbled in his pockets before handing one to her.

"Thanks." She wiped Christine's face dry of tears. "My name's Jessica Whiteford. This is Harry Reid." Christine turned to the man on her other side, who gave her a small smile. "That's Bob in the front. I know you must be scared, but you're safe now. You don't have to worry anymore."

"Am I…Are we here?" She saw buildings around her, like the ones she'd seen surrounding the hospital, and she realised she could only have been asleep for a few minutes. The building they were parked outside of was small, old-fashioned, with other police cars nearby.

"We're here. Let's get you inside, hmm?"

The sun was still shining in a warm blue sky. Just an hour or so ago, she'd been sitting on the grass with Erik outside their house. _Where is he now? Will they tell me if I ask them? _"Is Erik coming back here? Will I see him?"

Jessica misinterpreted her words. "No, you don't have to worry about that. He's not going to be anywhere near you, okay? I promise. You won't see him."

_But is he here? If he's here in the building, then I could try to get a message to him somehow. _"He's in this station, right?"

"Like I said, he'll be kept away from you. You don't have to worry about -"

"I'm not worried. Erik would never hurt me."

Jessica stopped by a frosted glass door, looking concernedly at Christine. "There's a doctor who'd like to have a look at you, if that's okay. We just have to make sure you're all right. Do you feel comfortable seeing her now?"

Christine nodded, her eyes darting around the hallway. There were so many doors. She didn't know how she would be able to find Erik, but she had to try.

"I can come in with you, if you like…"

"No, that's okay."

"Great. And if you're feeling up to it later, we'd like to talk to you. But we'll see how you're feeling, all right?"

"All right." _They're treating me like I'm made of glass. I bet they're not being so nice to Erik…_

Sterile white surfaces surrounded her as she went inside the room. The light reflected off of them, hurting her eyes a little.

"It's Christine, isn't it?" The doctor smiled pleasantly at her. "I'm Maria. If you'd like to take a seat, or lie down…"

_I'm never going to remember all of these names. _She lay back on the examination table, her hands in her lap.

"Okay." Maria pulled up a chair beside her. A clipboard was in her hands. "How are you feeling, Christine?"

"Fine. I want to see Erik."

Maria stared for a moment, then nodded slowly, taking some notes. "We can get to that later, okay? But you're feeling fine health-wise?"

"Yeah."

"Have you suffered from any sickness? Vomiting, colds…"

"No."

"Great. You haven't noticed any weight loss?"

"No."

"You've been sleeping okay? In general?"

"Mm-hm."

"No panic attacks? Shortness of breath, chest pains, anything like that?

"No."

She paused. "Anything else I should know about? No injuries at all?"

"No, nothing. I'm fine."

"Good. If you don't mind, I'd like to perform a few tests. Just your breathing, pulse, blood pressure, and so on. Is that okay?"

"Mm-hm." _They all keep asking me that. What if I just said 'no'?_

Everything was normal. _Of course. I told her I was fine. But they just won't listen to me, will they? No matter what I say._

"Okay, so I'm going to need a blood sample from you, all right?" Christine felt herself going pale as Maria picked up a needle. "I know, it's not fun, but it has to be done. You're okay with needles?"

_I used to be. Not anymore. _She turned her head away as the sample was taken, looking at Maria from the corner of her eyes. The doctor gave her a sympathetic smile. _She's trying to be friendly. Trying to build the what's-it-called…Rapport. _"Is there anything else you have to do? Like, check I'm not crazy, or something?"

"No, you'll get another doctor for that. A specialist."

"Like a psychiatrist?"

She hesitated a little. "Well, yes…"

_I should try to be nice to her, shouldn't I? She's just doing her job, and she seems friendly enough. _"So…another name I have to learn?"

She laughed, but only quietly. "I'm afraid so."

There was an awkward silence between them. "So…I can go now?"

Maria bit her lip. "No, not yet." Gently, she took Christine's hands in hers. "I know it's difficult for you, and you'll maybe find it easier to talk to your psychiatrist about this all later, once you've had a chance to get to know her…But there are things we have to do sooner rather than later."

"I…I don't understand…"

"What's happened to you…It'd be a very good idea to collect some evidence samples from you. I'd like to perform a more intimate examination of you, too, if you feel comfortable with that…"

Christine stared blankly at her. _What? What is she talking about?_

She mistook Christine's silence for shock. "Yes, I realise this is difficult. But I do need to check to be sure you haven't suffered any physical trauma. We also need to consider the possibility of infection. And if there's any chance you could be pregnant…"

_Oh my God… _"No! No, no, he didn't…Erik didn't…"

"Shhh. It's okay -"

"No, it's not okay! You think he hurt me…Erik would _never _do that to me…Never!"

"Calm down. I understand if you're -"

"You _don't _understand!" Christine was crying now: hot, angry tears that flooded her eyes and choked her voice. "You don't believe me…you don't believe me when I tell you he hasn't hurt me…"

She couldn't believe what she was being asked. _They think he's… raped me. _The very word made her feel sick. When she thought about Erik and how lovingly he had always treated her…She remembered the beautiful way he had spoken about making love to her, just a few days before. _How can they think such awful things about him? He's been so good to me, and they just assume the worst. _

"Christine, nothing will be done without your consent. If you want to refuse the examination, you can do so…"

She nodded quickly, wiping tears away. "He hasn't hurt me. And I know you don't believe me, but it's true."

"Of course I believe you. Just relax." Maria passed her a tissue: unlike the policewoman, she didn't try to clean Christine's face herself, which suited Christine fine. She had decided that she didn't like her very much.

"Can I go now? _Please_?"

Maria sighed. "That's everything. You can go if you wish. I'll just let someone know…" She helped Christine up from the table and went to the phone at her desk. "But I want you to remember that I'm here if you need to talk to me."

_If I want to go back and talk to her about what _really_ happened. She doesn't believe me. _

"Hi, it's Maria. If someone wants to come and collect Christine, she's ready to go…Yes, I'll get started now…Okay. Thank you." She replaced the receiver and turned back to Christine. "If you just wait for a moment." She made some more notes on her clipboard. "I just have to write up your report. Everything looks normal, so nothing to worry about. I think the police will want to interview you soon, so just be prepared."

Christine nodded, her eyes fixed on the door. When the policewoman arrived, she didn't hesitate in leaving the room. _I can't stand her. I mean, I guess she's just doing her job, but still…_

"How are you feeling? Okay?" Jessica patted her arm gently.

"Fine."

"Good. We'd like to talk to you about what happened, but we've got some time before then. So just take a break for a few hours…" Jessica stopped in her tracks, turning to Christine with a grin. "I bet you're hungry, right? We should get you a sandwich, or something."

"Okay."

"You know, you remind me of my little sister. And…I'm just glad you're okay. We're _all _really glad." For a moment, her smile faded as she became lost in thought, but it soon returned. "Come on! I found out where they keep the muffins."

* * *

On the other side of the building, Detective Inspector Thomson sat pensively in the hallway, a cup of coffee in his hands. The girl had been found, alive and well, and the good news would soon be going out to the world. They had apprehended the culprit: a dangerous criminal, who would now be put safely behind bars, no doubt for the rest of his life. Thomson took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied sigh. Everything was going well.

Inside the room across from where he sat, Firouz stood silently in the corner, keeping an eye on proceedings. Hopefully, things wouldn't take much longer. Erik had caused so many problems for him in the past, including completely ruining his career, and nearly killing him a couple of times into the bargain. _Still, it is uncomfortable to witness Erik being subjected to such a process, however necessary._

"We're finished, sir. Nothing."

"Nothing at all? You're certain?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then that will be all. If you would like to let Thomson know we're finished." One of the two officers left the room. "Get dressed, Erik."

"It's over, then? Thank God for that…"

"You have only yourself to blame, Erik. You've earned yourself something of a record in escaping custody, so you'll forgive me for ordering a thorough search."

"Of course. We can't have Erik escaping, now, can we? And besides that…wait, where are my shoelaces?"

Firouz shook his head firmly. "No shoelaces for you, Erik. I've already warned them about giving you anything which could be used as a noose. You won't get your tie back, either."

He reached for his shirt. "You know, I could kill you with my bare hands, if I wanted to."

The officer in the corner suddenly looked worried. Firouz barely flinched. "I don't doubt that."

"I should kill you for what you've done. You've ruined _everything_ for us…"

As Erik buttoned up his shirt, Firouz saw him visibly wince with pain. "Are you ready? I believe Thomson wants you to be questioned next."

"Wonderful. Just what I need after all of this -"

"Hands behind your back, Erik."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Firouz? Humiliating me like this?" Erik put his arms behind him, and Firouz heard him give a small cry of pain as he forced his wrists into position. Once the handcuffs were secure, he rolled up Erik's left sleeve.

"Track marks, scars…These are new, aren't they?"

"Hmm." Erik shrugged.

Firouz slowly nodded his head. "I had hoped you had given it up by now."

"I tried to."

He carefully rolled the sleeve back in place. "You're in pain. I can fetch for a doctor, if you'd like…"

"No, it's fine." Erik turned to him, staring. "Why would you care? You hate me. Why would it matter to you if -"

"I make it a point never to hate anyone, Erik. Not even you." He took Erik by the shoulder and steered him towards the door. "Come along, now. There are several things we have to discuss with you."

* * *

Jessica ushered Christine inside the interview room. "Just take a seat now. That's right. Can I get you anything? A glass of water, maybe?"

"If…it's not any trouble…"

"Of course not. I'll be back in a second. Just wait there with Harry."

Christine looked around the little room, taking everything in. The only furniture inside was three chairs, a small table, and a leafy plant in the corner. A mirror took up most of the wall behind her, and she had seen enough movies to guess that there was probably someone watching her from behind it. Across the table from her sat Officer Reid who was arranging some papers in a neat pile in front of him. She caught his eye, and he smiled at her, adjusting his glasses on his nose. She looked away, fixing her attention on the plant instead.

The door opened. "Here we are…" Jessica handed the glass to Christine, who took a small sip. She took the seat to Christine's left. "Are you ready to start?"

"Mm-hm."

"Great. Just remember we can stop any time if we have to, okay?"

Christine nodded, but was too nervous to look at her. _What if I say the wrong thing and get him into trouble? I have to be so careful…_

"Okay…Are you ready, Harry?"

He finished arranging the papers, and picked up a pen. "Yeah. Ready."

"Okay. We'll just begin with a few basics to get started, Christine. Just your full name."

"Christine Elizabeth Daaé."

"D-double A-E, right?"

"E-acute. Yeah."

"And 'Elizabeth' with a Z?"

"Mm-hm." Christine watched Reid filling in the papers. She already felt nervous.

"And you're eighteen? When's your birthday?"

"November 9th."

"All right. And your home address?"

Christine hesitated. It felt like a sharp pain had pierced her below the ribs. _Where _is _my home now? With my dad? With Erik? But I guess that can't be home anymore anyway. _"Seventy-three Salvia Gardens, Woodside."

"And you're a student, right?"

"Yeah. I just finished high school."

"Great. How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Good. Now I just want you to relax. I'm going to ask you some questions, and I just want you to answer them as best you can. If you want to take a break at any point, just say, and we can continue later. Okay?"

_Now for the real questions. _She tried to relax, focussing her attention on the plant. She wondered if that was its purpose in the room, so people could look at something else other than police officers or themselves in the mirror.

"All right." Jessica gave Reid a nod. "Shall we just start with what happened that night? What can you remember about Saturday, June 16th?"

"I…I…was at a nightclub…" Her throat started to go dry, and she took another sip of her water.

"Just take your time, Christine. There's no rush at all."

"I was at the nightclub…Before that, I was at home…Where am I supposed to start?"

"Well, what about that morning? Can you remember that?"

She nodded. "Meg called me…it was pretty early, I think. In the morning. I think I'd just gotten breakfast."

"Can you remember what you talked about?"

"Yeah. Just arranging the time I was getting picked up, I think. And then we just talked about stuff. What we were going to wear and…and stuff."

"Mm-hm. And what did you do later that day?"

"I…I think I stayed in. I washed my hair and watched a movie and got ready to go out."

"What time did you go out?"

"I…I can't remember. Eight, maybe. Or maybe half-eight." She closed her eyes, trying hard to remember. "I…I'm not sure…"

"That's okay. How did you get to the nightclub?"

"Meg came in her car and picked me up. And then we all went to pick Jennifer up, and then went to the nightclub."

"How many people were there?"

"Lots of them. At least seven of us, I think. I…I don't think I remember everyone."

"Don't worry about that. But at least six other people? Were they all friends of yours? Girls?"

"Mm-hm. Girls from school."

"Okay. What nightclub did you go to?"

"It's called _The Green Fairy_." She wondered why she was asking her questions that they must already have the answers to. _They must be trying to get me to relax and open up, or something. Either that, or they're just checking to see if they can trust what I say. Make sure I haven't gone crazy…_

"Had you been there before that night?"

"Yeah, we usually go there. It's free, and they don't…" Christine paused. "They…don't ask for ID when you're buying drinks…"

Jessica laughed at her nervous expression. "Don't worry! You're not in trouble, or anything. I was your age once."

Harry looked up from his papers, grinning. "I remember once in high school, there was this guy whose parents were away for the weekend this one time, so we all arranged to get drinks and meet at his house for a party, and about a hundred people turned up because everyone told everyone, and -"

"Harry, please…" Jessica raised an eyebrow at him, but couldn't hide her smile.

"Sorry. Not important."

"Did you have anything to drink, Christine?"

"No, just a soda-water and lime. My dad doesn't like me drinking, so…"

"I understand."

"And the other girls were drinking, so they needed someone to stay sober to drive everyone home, I guess, so…" She trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"Okay." Jessica paused for a moment, making sure Reid had written everything down. "Can you remember what happened once you got to the club?"

"I…I think we just got drinks and danced for a while. Then they'd all had a lot to drink, so I just sat at the table."

"Did you see anyone or anything in the club that was suspicious, out of place, anyone acting strangely – anything like that?"

"No. But…it was really crowded and dark. So I couldn't really see anything, if…if you know what I mean…"

"Mm-hm. What happened next?"

"I…I needed to go to the bathroom. So I…I said to the girls at the table, and I went there."

"The other girls didn't go with you?"

"No, it's just the one cubicle there. But I didn't want them to wait outside, or anything…I just wanted to get away from them, you know? They'd been drinking too much, and they were pretty loud…"

"Okay. And after the bathroom…?"

"I…I went back to the table…" Christine paused, her brow furrowing in thought. "And…I…I drank some of my drink. And I felt sick. Dizzy, and…my head ached…I went back to the bathroom…" She glanced at Jessica, who looked very concerned. "And I…I remember I was in there, and I fell, and I…I blacked out."

Jessica took a deep breath before continuing. "What do you remember about when you woke up?"

_Oh, God, this is it…_ "I…I was in a strange room. I still felt sick. And…and Erik was there…" She closed her eyes. _I can't lie to them about what happened. _"I…was scared. He kept telling me he wouldn't hurt me, and everything was okay. And I…I was…I was crying. And he…Erik was trying to calm me down. He told me he loved me, and he wouldn't hurt me. But I was…I was still scared…"

Jessica took Christine's hand. "It's okay. Do you want us to take a break?"

"No, I'm fine." She took another few sips of water. "He…left me alone for a while. Then he showed me around the house – no, wait…no, first we had lunch. Then he showed me around…" _What else am I supposed to tell them? I can't go through every single thing we did together… _"Erik treated me really well. Like a guest. And after a while, a few days, maybe, we…we would sit and talk together. So we've…gotten to know each other. We've become really close." She almost added that she loved him, but thought better of it.

Christine looked up at Jessica. _She still looks really worried for me. _She turned to Reid to see how he was reacting to everything. As she caught his eye, she saw him quickly avert his gaze back to his papers, and she frowned. _Why won't he look at me? He seems upset. _

Confused, she turned back to Jessica, still frowning. The policewoman lowered her voice slightly. "If you'd be more comfortable, I can arrange for another female officer instead. It'd mean we'd need to continue this interview at a later time, but that's -"

"What are you talking about?" Christine stared at her, trying to decipher what she meant. It dawned on her. _It's going to be this all over again, isn't it? _"He didn't hurt me. Erik would never hurt me."

"Christine, if there was any kind of physical or sexual abuse, then -"

"There _wasn't_. He wouldn't do that." She sighed. "Look, I know you don't believe me, but -"

"Of _course _I believe you, Christine. But please understand: I have to ask these things, okay?"

"Mm-hm."

She stroked her hand gently. "You say there wasn't any sexual abuse. Now, it doesn't have to be sex. Any kind of unwanted sexual contact, or the threat of -"

"It didn't happen. It _never _happened." Christine glared unblinkingly at her, snatching her hand away.

"Anything you didn't consent to, Christine. Even a kiss."

Christine froze. _They saw him kissing me when we were down in that basement. Of course they think he's hurt me…_ "I _chose _to kiss him. He didn't force me to. And I know you don't believe I'm telling the truth."

"Christine, I didn't say -"

"You don't have to. I know you've all made up your mind about Erik already. You think he's some kind of monster who's hurt me because you can't believe he could possibly be a good man. A good man who'd never _dream_ of hurting me or treating me badly. And I know you can't believe that. I don't know how I'm supposed to prove that to you, but…"

"There's no need to prove anything. We believe you." Christine watched as she leaned over and said something to Reid, who nodded in reply, noting something down. "Was there any other kind of abuse, Christine? He wasn't violent to you, or…?"

"No, never."

"Did he ever threaten to hurt you?"

"No. He promised he _wouldn't _hurt me."

There was a knock at the door which made Christine jump slightly. Jessica got up from the table. "Give me a second. I'll be back…" She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

She returned a few moments later. "How about we take another break, and we can continue this later?"

"Later?"

"Your father's on his way."

* * *

"Sit down, Erik. You're going to be here for a while, so if you need anything -"

He shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

"Very well." Thomson took a seat across the table from Erik, who sat quietly with his hands cuffed behind his back. "I'm Detective Inspector Paul Thomson. I believe you already know my colleague, Firouz Saleem."

There was a tense silence as Erik glared at Firouz.

Firouz suddenly stood up, walking to Erik's side of the table. "That can't be comfortable, Erik, now can it?" He undid Erik's handcuffs and brought his hands in front of him on the armrests of the chair. He paused. "Still, I don't trust you…Thomson, do you have an extra pair of handcuffs?"

Thomson threw Firouz another set, and he secured each of Erik's hands to the armrests. "That's better. Keep your hands nice and still, now, and don't try anything."

He sat down on the other side of the room next to Thomson, his eyes carefully fixed on Erik.

"I think we should begin, Erik. Give us your full name."

"Erik Charles Rossignol. This is being recorded, isn't it? I see the camera in the corner."

"Yes, it is. Your date of birth?"

"March 15th. Nineteen sixty-five."

"Your address?"

"You were there. You were at my house."

Thomson nodded. "That's true. Does that house actually have an address?"

"No. There used to be a farmhouse there, but not anymore."

"You built your new house yourself, didn't you?" Firouz asked him.

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "As a second home, I suppose."

"Really? You built a secret house that no one knew anything about just as a second home? I find that hard to believe." Erik was silent, so Firouz went on. "You built that house in case you had to go into hiding, didn't you? Because there are people in this world who want you dead. That's the truth, isn't it, Erik?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Do you own any other properties?"

"No."

"But you did? You can't have a second home if you don't have a first."

"I've owned a few apartments. But I haven't stayed anywhere very long. Just for work."

"Where was your last address, then? And how long did you stay there?"

"Thirty-five Palace Road, Woodside. I lived there for about three months."

Thomson looked suddenly concerned. "Hang on, that's…That's only a few minutes from where Christine lives, isn't it?"

"I guess it might be."

Thomson sighed. "Well, you know why you're here, Erik. We've been searching for Christine Daaé for the past five weeks. And we find her with you…So as you can imagine, we're very interested in how that came to be. We believe you've committed a very serious crime, Erik. Now, you have certain rights. You have the right to remain silent, and you don't have to say anything to us if you choose, but anything you say may be later used as evidence. You're also allowed to have a lawyer present, if you want. One will be provided for you if needed. And you can exercise these rights at any time. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"With all of that in mind, will you talk to us and answer our questions?"

Erik nodded. _I'll just tell them what they want to hear, and hopefully this won't take too long._

"Very well. Would you care to explain to us how Christine Daaé came to be with you?"

"You found the sedative in her drink, didn't you? I gave a little something to make her sleep, and then I took her."

"Care to elaborate?" Firouz asked him.

"Of course. I went to the nightclub that night, I waited until her drink was unattended, and I poured a sachet of it into the glass. I took the keys from the bar, waited for her to have a drink and go to the bathroom…And then I unlocked the bathroom door and carried her outside to my car. Is that clear enough?"

"And what if she didn't go to the bathroom? Then what would you have done?"

"Oh, she would have. That's what the drug does, you see. You begin by feeling dizzy and slightly nauseous. Your first instinct is always either to go to the bathroom or step outside for some fresh air. Either would have been fine for me."

"What was in that sedative?"

"Oh, it's all perfectly harmless. I would never risk my Christine's health. That particular concoction is completely safe. Thoroughly tested."

"Do you know that one of Christine's friends also ingested some of that sedative?"

Erik shrugged. "Well, it's her own fault, really. She shouldn't be drinking other people's drinks, now should she?"

"Erik…"

"What does it matter? So she felt sick and dizzy, or maybe passed out for a little while. As I say, it's perfectly safe."

Thomson sighed. "How did you know Christine would be at the club that night? Did you follow her?"

"No. Sometimes I did, but I didn't have to on that occasion. She and her friends had been planning that night out for at least a week. They discussed it over the phone several times, so I heard all of their plans that way." He watched the surprised expressions on the officers' faces with relish. "Oh, you didn't know? Yes, I rigged up some recording equipment to the Daaé family's phone about three or four months before I took her. In fact, it's still recording now." Erik smiled at Firouz. "It seems as if I've outsmarted you, Daroga, doesn't it?"

Firouz ignored him. "What did you do after you took Christine to your car?"

"I put her in the front seat and drove her to my home in Newton. We drove all through the night. She was still unconscious when we arrived. I carried her upstairs and put her to bed."

"Did you rape her?"

"God, no. Of course not. You know me, Firouz. You know I'd never do such a thing…"

"No, I don't know you, Erik. I never thought you could do something like _this_. Abducting a young girl and forcing her to stay with you against her will…Forgive me for questioning your integrity."

Erik stared at him. "I would never hurt my Christine. Not ever."

"You don't think it hurt her to be taken against her will? Taken from her family -"

"You hypocrite. All of you, _hypocrites_. I saw what you did to her. You grabbed her and carried her away from me. I heard her kicking and screaming as you forced her out of _our_ home. She wanted to stay with me, and you all took her against her will -"

"Have you _any _idea what you've put this girl's family and friends through, Erik? Her father has been through _hell_. Do you not care about -"

"How did it feel when she hit you, Daroga? She's never hit Erik, you know. No, she's never fought me…She loves me. She wants to be mine, my wife…You've ruined everything, Firouz."

"Your _wife_? That's why you took her, then?"

He nodded. "I wanted a wife, a family…I just wanted to be happy. And she's agreed to marry me. I asked her, and she agreed."

"I highly doubt that," said Thomson. "Did you threaten her? Tell her you'd hurt her if she said 'no'?"

"Why do you say that? Do you think it'd be impossible for a woman to _want _to marry me?"

"Did you threaten her or not?"

"Of course not. Ask her, if you want." For an instant, Erik felt himself panicking. _What if she doesn't defend me? What if she lies to them, betrays me? _But he took a deep breath, remembering the way she had treated him before: her kisses, her words of love, all of her promises…Of course she loved him. "Ask her, and she'll tell you the truth." _And even if she betrayed me…why would it matter? I'd have nothing to live for then, anyway._

Thomson muttered something to Firouz, who nodded. Thomson changed the subject. "What did you do when Christine woke up, Erik?"

"I…I told her that she was safe, and that I loved her. She didn't need to be afraid."

"But _was _she afraid?"

Erik hesitated. "I suppose…at first, she was. But only for a little while. Until she got to know me better."

"And after that, she just learned to love you? Just like that?"

"I don't care if you believe me, or not. Just talk to her."

"Very well." Thomson made a note on a sheet of paper. "In the last five weeks, did you at any time have sexual intercourse with Christine Daaé?"

"I didn't rape her," he spat. His right hand tightly grasped the armrest; Firouz noted that his left hand didn't move: clearly, that arm still hurt him.

"I didn't say you did. Maybe you didn't think it was rape, since she told you she loved you."

"No. No, I didn't have sex with her."

"Any sexual contact?"

"No. Nothing more than a kiss. Which she consented to," he added, seeing the expressions on the police officers' faces. "I'd never force her to do anything against her will."

"Except stay with you."

Erik was silent. Firouz looked at him with interest. "You're suddenly very quiet, Erik. Does it bother you to think about that? You say that she loves you, and yet, you had to keep her against her will."

"That's not true. At first, perhaps, but…She had the chance to leave me, and she stayed. She _chose _to stay with me."

It was Firouz's turn to be silent. That was one thing he couldn't explain, and it had been bothering him for a while. "Why…do you think that was?"

"I was kind to her. I treated her with love and respect. I let her call her father…"

"Don't you think that she missed him? Do you not think it was an awful thing to do, to keep her away from the people she loved?"

He nodded. "That's the only thing I regret. I hated keeping her from her father." A small, sad smile appeared on his face. _I suppose that's the only good thing about this arrest. At least now she can see him again._

* * *

Christine clutched Jessica's arm as they walked down the corridor together. She could feel her heart beating painfully in her chest. _God, for weeks, I've been praying for this, and now…Now I'm actually nervous. _"Is…is he okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, he's fine. I'm sure he was very glad to hear you were safe. You've got a great dad there. You know, he came to the station every day to check up on us, make sure we were doing our job." She laughed a little, but Christine thought it sounded forced.

They were heading towards the little room where she'd eaten earlier. _My daddy's in there. What am I going to say to him? How am I supposed to tell him everything that's happened? _She didn't even know where she was supposed to begin. _I'm engaged to Erik…I think. Does it still count now? I know _we _still want to get married, but how can that happen now?_

She watched almost numbly as Jessica opened the door to the room. There was her father, standing in the room alongside some officers. She thought he looked very small. A wave of emotion surged through her in the few seconds it took for him to notice her, so that when her father looked up, tears were already spilling from her eyes.

It was as if the sun had risen inside him, the way his face began to glow. One hand rose to his mouth: he couldn't say a word. He could only look on with delight as his daughter entered the room.

As Christine came towards him, he reached out to her with both arms, scooping her up and squeezing her close to his heart. "Christine! Christine, sweetie…My God, it's really you. Oh, your hair…"

"Daddy…" The tears trickled down her cheek.

Michael hugged her tighter, planting kisses on her face. "Sweetie, it's okay. It's all going to be _okay_…"

"Daddy…Oh, Dad, I've missed you…"

"I've missed _you_…I prayed for you, every day. That'd you'd come home safely, and I…I'm just so glad you're okay…"

The two of them sat down on the sofa in the corner of the room, both of them in tears. Michael held her silently for several minutes, with no idea what to say. He wanted to say _something_ to her, something to comfort her. But what could he say that could possibly help her? _My little girl…My God, what have you been through?_

Eventually he forced himself to speak. "Christine…Christine, when you're ready to talk to me about…about what happened, then…then I -"

"Dad, it's okay. I'm fine. He – Erik, I mean – he didn't hurt me."

"Erik? He's…?"

"The…the man who…took me. He didn't hurt me."

Michael stared at her. "He…he didn't…"

"Daddy, I _promise_ you, he didn't rape me. You _know_ I wouldn't lie to you. Not about something like that."

"My baby…Oh, thank God…" He held her tighter. "I was so worried. When you called me, you said…you said he _loved _you, and I thought…I was just so worried."

"No, I'm fine. Erik _does _love me; that's why he would never hurt me."

He nodded a little, obviously greatly relieved by her words. "So you're okay…I mean, I know…I know you're not _okay_, but I…I just mean…"

She laughed through her tears. "Daddy! I'm fine. Really, I am. I'm just worried about him. Honestly, that's _all_ that worries me now…"

"What?" Michael pulled away from her slightly, looking into her eyes. "You're…worried about him?" His face looked as if he had seen a ghost. "_Why_? Why are worried about that…_monster _who did this to you?"

"Erik's not a monster. He's not, dad; he's a good man. He just made a mistake…"

He clasped his hands tightly against his chin, pleading with her. "Christine, _no_. No, he's not. I…I don't know what he's said to you to make you think this way, but…It's not the truth. He's not a good man -"

"He's _not _a monster, dad. You don't know him like I do. He's kind, and full of love, and…"

"Honey, maybe he's been 'kind' to you, but he's …I mean, maybe he hasn't hurt you, and to you, that seems like kindness. Sweetie, it's not the same thing. It's not." He watched her lower lip begin to tremble. "Honey, I'm sorry. I know this is difficult, and it's okay if you don't understand yet…"

"You don't know him," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You don't know what he's been through. Life hasn't been easy for him, and he's suffered a lot."

"Well, we all have our crosses, sweetheart. I'm sure he's suffered, but so has everybody. That doesn't mean what he did to you was okay. You know, _I've _been through a lot, too, but I still have to try to be good to everyone and not hurt anyone else. Because that's the right thing to do. That's what we _all _have to do."

She smiled a little. "That's such a dad-speech!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is. Full of words and wisdom, me." She hugged him. "But you should listen to your old dad, you know."

Christine nodded. "It's just…I don't think he really knew what he was doing was wrong. I think he just hurt so much inside that he'd do anything to make it go away. Erik's really lonely…I guess I just want to make him happy."

"Well, that's admirable. You're such a good girl, Christine. You try to see the light in everyone. But you know it's not your job to make him feel better, right? You have to do what's best for you too." He stroked her hair. "It's okay for you to pity him. But you can't let that get in the way of what's right. He did something really bad, and he's going to have to suffer the consequences, and that's how it should be -"

"No! No, he…He didn't do anything wrong. I mean, he didn't know what he was doing…"

"Well, that may be true. But then he still needs _help_."

"I can help him."

"No, sweetie. No." With a sigh, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I know this is really difficult for you, but try not to worry any more. It might take some time before everything is -" Tears sprang from his eyes once more. "Before everything is back to normal. Just remember that I'm here for you. You can talk to me any time you want, about anything. Anything at all, right?"

A policeman entered the room, but started to leave again. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were…I'll come back later."

"Do you…want to talk to me again?" Christine asked.

"Your father, actually. We just want to talk a few things over with him, but we can do that later. It's fine."

"It's okay, if you want to…" She looked at her dad. "I mean, I…I think I need some time to myself, maybe. Just for a little while. If that's okay?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sure." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

The door closed behind him, and Christine felt very alone. But she had to have time to think things over. _Everything's so confusing now. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to think now…No. No, I know Erik is a good man. He loves me. It'll all be okay in the end. And he _is _a good man. He is…_

She sat in silence for a while, alone in the room except for some police officers in the corner, who were busy talking quietly to each other and letting her sit by herself. _They probably want to leave me to think. Like I asked, I guess. _

The door opened again. Christine looked up, desperate to get away from her own thoughts. She recognised the man who walked into the room immediately. _He's the one who took Erik away. He ruined everything for us. _Even so, she wanted to talk to him desperately. _How does he know so much about Erik? He must have met him before, but where? How? _She didn't know much about Erik's past, she had to admit. Part of her was curious as to what he could tell her.

"Oh, we haven't met, have we? My name is Firouz Saleem." Christine almost thought he was talking to her, but realised he was looking past her to the police officers behind her, who nodded.

"Hi, I'm Nicole. Nicole Peterson."

"Ross Richards."

"Well, it's lovely to meet you. If you don't mind me joining you for coffee…?"

Christine looked away, confused. _I don't get him at all. He acts almost like…like a normal guy. Just some guy, but he knows so much. _She felt like crying again. Everything was so complicated. _I still can't believe that everything's ruined. _She gazed down sadly at her bare left hand. _He had to be too smart for Erik._

But something occurred to her. _He knows Erik. He must realise that he's a good man, really. I mean, he said Erik was being charged with murder_ – she felt the colour drain from her face – _but he can't really _believe _it, can he? No one that knows Erik well could possibly believe that he's killed people. Maybe…maybe I could reason with him. Get him to let me talk to Erik. _In her head, she knew that would never happen, but she wanted to try. She _had _to.

"No, no, it's fine. You've both worked very hard today. I'll take care of things here." Christine looked up. It took her a moment to realise that the other officers were leaving the room. Leaving her alone with Firouz. _Now's my chance._

She felt intimidated by him as she watched him getting a drink on the other side of the room. Something about him commanded power. She hated to admit it, but he reminded her of Erik.

He nodded to her, giving her a slight wave. "Hello. May I join you?"

She nodded back in agreement, almost without thinking. She couldn't say no to him.

"Wonderful." He took a seat beside her. "My name is Firouz. I've been working on your case for a while now, Miss Daaé, and…May I call you Christine?"

"Mm-hm."

"Christine. I'm very happy to see you safe. How do you feel?"

"I…Better, I guess. I…just saw my dad."

"Hmm. Well, that is a relief. I know your father has been very worried about you."

Christine said nothing. Really, she didn't know what to say to that. She didn't enjoy being reminded of how much her father had been hurt because of Erik.

"But, as I say, I'm glad you're safe." He paused. "You seem very quiet, Christine. Are you still angry with me?"

"Angry?"

"You don't remember earlier?" He gave a wry smile. "I must say, you have something of a mean right hook."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" She paused. _No, I _did _mean to hurt him. Hmm…_

"That's quite all right," he laughed. "I've suffered much worse in my time. Believe me."

Christine was silent. It seemed as if Firouz was a decent man, whom she could trust. _I hope. But I have to find out what he knows. _"Mr Saleem? Do you…know Erik? I mean, are you friends with him, or something?"

She heard him sigh. "It's more complicated than that. Yes, I know Erik. I don't know if we were ever…friends, as you say. I met him years ago, in Iran, back where I used to live and work. That was before he was a wanted criminal. It was my duty to -"

"Why was he wanted? What did he do? She felt panic welling up inside her.

Firouz hesitated, glancing quickly around him. _Maybe he's not allowed to tell me. But…he looks like he's going to. _"Erik is one of the world's most wanted men. He has been charged with heinous crimes in the past, but has always managed to evade capture. I must say that I am glad we've finally caught him. It's time for him to take responsibility for his actions."

Christine swallowed. "Has Erik…killed people?"

He paused. "It was something of a game to him, I think. Exerting that kind of power: over life and death itself. He seemed to revel in it."

"I don't believe you," she said quickly. "He wouldn't do that. He's not like that."

"I don't know what kind of persona he's revealed to you in the past few weeks. I would imagine he attempted to hide that side of him from you."

"No. No, he's not like that. He's not a murderer. He's not evil."

Firouz closed his eyes for a moment. "I do not consider him to be an _evil_ man. From the little I know of his past, I understand he has suffered greatly. As such, I pity him. I imagine that his actions have been shaped at least partly by his experiences. But regardless of his past, he must be held accountable for his crimes."

Christine felt torn. She didn't want to believe what Firouz was telling her about Erik. At the same time…didn't it sound like the truth? Firouz wasn't lying, at least; even if Erik wasn't guilty, he genuinely believed that he was. But _was_ he guilty? _Erik would have told me_, she tried to reason. _He told me about everything else. He was honest about how difficult his life was before, and about the morphine…_

But he wasn't, was he? He had only told her the truth about his drug addiction when he had been forced to: when she had found out about it for herself. If he had never suffered from the overdose, then she still wouldn't know.

Was it possible that he was lying about this too? Could Erik – her dear, sweet Erik – have killed people?

What if he had? She had already made concessions for him because of his past. She didn't hate him for kidnapping her, and had already forgiven him for doing so. Knowing how much he had suffered, she only wanted to forget about that and move on. _If he's actually killed people, could I forgive him? But that's a stupid thing to think about. It's not true. He wouldn't kill anyone, not ever, so it's silly for me to worry about it. I know Erik. I _know _he's innocent._

But if she was so sure she knew Erik, then why had she believed Firouz for even a second? You didn't doubt people that you trusted. You didn't ask yourself 'what if?' _What's wrong with me? Why do I doubt him at all? _She felt so confused, unsure of what to think or do. _But if it is true…_

"Mr Saleem?"

"Hmm?"

_I can't believe I'm even asking him this…_ "If…if Erik really did things like that…do you think he could change?" Firouz stared at her. "I mean, he's not like that now. When we were together, he was so kind and gentle and…and he's a good man. He's _changed_. Do you believe that?"

He was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he replied. "I believe in forgiveness. If Erik really has changed…But he abducted you. If he was, as you say, a good man, then he would never have taken you."

"I think he just wants a normal life, where he can be loved. He knew that he'd never get that unless he took me against my will…But it's not like that now. I _want_ to be with him. I'm ready to love him, like he wanted. He deserves love more than anyone else I've ever met, and I want to be there for him, for the rest of my life."

Firouz looked stunned. "You say that you love him…Do you really mean that?"

"Mm-hm. We were going to get married someday…I hope we still can." She brushed a tear from her eye. "He gave me an engagement ring and everything, but I lost it."

"Lost it?"

"It fell off of my finger when you arrested me. And I don't know where it went. And I feel so terrible for losing it."

Firouz frowned. This was getting very confusing. "I…" He shook his head in astonishment. "I have known Erik for many years, and I have never met a woman who thought of him even as a _friend_, let alone anything more. And you…You say that you love him?" he repeated.

"With all of my heart."

"You've seen his face. You've _kissed _his face. You are not afraid of him?"

"No. Not anymore. I'll never be afraid of him again."

She looked so sincere that he found himself unable to doubt her. "You love him? You really…"

"I'd die for him." She began to sob. "Please let me see him. Just…just for a minute, even. Please."

"I'm sorry. I can't allow you to see him."

"_Please_…I don't want him to be on his own. He must be so afraid right now." She grabbed Firouz's hands in hers. "Please, you _know_ he's not an evil man. You have to help him."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I cannot let you see him. As for helping him myself, there's nothing I can do. He has to face the penalty for what he's done."

Christine nodded slowly, her head lowered in defeat. "Could you…Could you just tell him that I love him, and that I'm worried about him? And that I'm sorry for losing the ring? Could you let him know?"

"Even that, I'm afraid, is more than I can do. Any type of contact between a suspect and a witness…" He stopped when he saw the expression of anguish on her face. Turning to quickly scan the room, he sighed. "Very well. I suppose this is something of an exceptional circumstance, after all. And I would like to speak to Erik myself." He couldn't understand the change in his character. Erik was the last man he would have imagined to have a woman fall in love with him. He had to figure that out. _Even if I have to jeopardise my career to do it._ "I'll let him know that you're sorry, and that you're worried about him…"

"And that I love him?"

Eventually he nodded. "That too."

Christine smiled, her face lighting up. "Thank you. I…I know it's risky for you."

"Don't worry about that. I'll work something out. When I get the opportunity to talk to him alone…"

"Thank you so much." Finally, she released his hands. "I'm so worried about him. What's going to happen to him now?"

Firouz hesitated, sipping his coffee. "I don't know. He'll be evaluated by psychiatrists. What happens to him then will largely depend on that."

She stared. "You think he's crazy?"

"I think that sometimes, he doesn't fully understand what he's doing. You said the same yourself, did you not?"

_I guess I did. _"It's just…He doesn't seem to understand that what he did was wrong. Not just kidnapping me, but…watching me. You know, like…watching me going to school, and…"

"Stalking you?"

Christine bit her lip. "He hears voices, too," she added. "In his head. He argued with them, one time anyway."

"Voices…"

"Mm-hm. I…I don't know exactly what it is. We didn't really talk about it. But it was a little scary, to be honest." _Very scary, actually. But he hasn't done it since… _"If the psychiatrist thought he was… not completely sane…What would happen to him?"

"I'm not sure. At the moment -"

Firouz stopped suddenly, looking around the room again. Christine did the same. _There's no doubt about it now: he's not supposed to be telling me any of this. _She felt like she could trust him completely now. _He's risking everything to tell me the truth. No…he's risking everything…to help Erik. _

"At the moment, he's almost certainly destined for life imprisonment."

"_Life_?" Christine felt her stomach knotting.

"I think so. As I said, he's committed many crimes. However, there's a chance that if he were found to be, as you say, not completely sane, then he could be given a less serious sentence. Possibly a mental hospital instead of prison. That would be a best-case scenario."

"_That's _the best-case?"

"Which would you prefer? Life in a prison, or life in a hospital?"

She shook her head. "Either way, he'd be locked up. And…I'd never see him again."

"Not necessarily. It's possible you'd be able to visit him. Perhaps every week."

_Every week. Not every day. _"I have to be with him. Not just every week. I have to marry him. I have to spend my life with him…"

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear. Understand that I don't wish this on him, either, but it's for the best. If he were to go free -"

"He wouldn't hurt anyone -"

"I don't know that. He has to be in a place where he cannot harm anyone else, or himself. He needs help."

Christine nodded. "I could help him."

"I know that you want to. But Erik is dangerous."

"He's _not_ a murderer."

Firouz gave a sigh. "I know that you don't believe me. But you must have noticed his temper. It's…uncontrollable sometimes, isn't it?"

There was no reply from Christine. _He's right. I know he's right. Erik _does _need help._

"I realise you want to help him, but I think professional help would be needed."

"But he doesn't need to be locked up! When we're married, I could look after him, and if he needed other help, he could get it. He could still see a psychiatrist, but…he'd be at home. With me…" Her hand reached for Firouz's again. "Please let him know that I love him. Maybe there'll be some way for things to work out."

Firouz stood, stroking his beard. "When I have the chance, I will talk to him. And I do hope things will work out for the best. For you both. If there's anything else you need…?"

"No, I'm fine. I think I want to be on my own for a little while."

"Very well." He discarded the coffee cup in the dustbin. "If you don't mind, Miss Daaé, I do have to get back to work. It was a pleasure to speak with you."

"You too. And…Thank you again."

"Of course. As I said, I will do my best." With that, Firouz left the room. He paced the hallway for several minutes as he gathered his thoughts.

Could Erik really have changed? Christine had seemed adamant about that when she spoke about him, and the very fact that she was in love with him at all seemed to indicate to Firouz that his condition had at least improved. But by how much? The way that Christine had spoken about him, trying to diminish every flaw he had, and her refusal to believe that Erik could be capable of murder had struck him deeply. After everything she must have been through in being abducted, it was possible that she was still unable to understand the events clearly. _Erik is very good at manipulation, after all. It could be that. Or…it could be that he _has _changed…Is that possible for a man like Erik? After so many terrible crimes, could he truly have seen the light?_

Either way, he had to talk to him.

* * *

**Okay guys, read and review!**

**WeatheringRain: Thanks!**

**MusicalLover17: You'll just have to wait and see!**

**Beth Sainsbury: Thank you so much! I really appreciate that!**

**gravity01: lol! Now there's an idea! Thank you for the review!**

**emeraldphan: I'm glad you liked it! Erik's pretty volatile, like you said. I reckon any relationship between him and Christine is going to need a heck of a lot of work…**

**13Aphrodite: Thanks! Hope you liked the update!**

**Nikki15DesertRose: I'll finish it, I promise! There's not long to go now…**

**Swann: lol! Thanks! You rules too…**

**Anonymous: Hey, don't panic! I can promise that things will be…relatively okay, at least. I can't give too much away…**

**Everyonedeserveslove: I did my best. I hope get the next chapter finished ASAP, but it'll depend a lot on university.**

**KittyPimms: Re-reading the whole thing? Wow, that's dedication! Don't worry, I'll fix the bad things soon!**

**Clara D: Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Guest: There's a lesson here for all of us. Don't take relationship advice from Erik!**

**Jenna: Updated! Hope it was okay!**

**Lizzie: Actually, that's a common misconception. There's a lot of stuff that can't be fixed with surgery, even nowadays.**

** xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys! Here's Chapter 17! Getting near the end now…Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

* * *

Christine had a difficult night. Her room at the village hotel was comfortable enough – small, but comfortable – but there was no way she could ever get a proper night's sleep, not so far away from Erik. Gladly, she would have spent the night in a prison cell, if only it meant she'd be closer to him. She spent most of the night in tears, thinking about the mess everything was in. _Am I ever going to see him again? I can't spend my life without him. My Erik…My fiancé. _She buried her face in the pillow. _What if I don't get to be with him again? Am I just going to have to…learn to live with it? Learn to live without him? _It took all of her strength trying not to make a sound as she cried, but eventually the pain was overwhelming, and she felt the sobbing tears forcing their way out from her. Christine tried her best to silence them, but she was too late.

"Christine?"

She sniffed, trying to dry her tears, as she listened to her father getting up from the other side of the room. "Daddy…" Bringing her head out slowly from under the sheets, she watched him sit down on the edge of her bed, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?" In the dim light, he noticed the tears glistening on her face. "Christine…"

"Dad, I'm okay. Sorry I woke you."

He brushed a tear from her face. "You're not okay, are you?" He closed his eyes, sighing. "What am I saying? Of course you're not…" He stopped himself. "Do you want me to stay here?"

"It's okay. There isn't that much room…" New tears sprang from her eyes, betraying her true feelings, and she crumbled. "Daddy…"

"Shhh. It's okay." Michael climbed into the bed beside her, wrapping both arms around her. His hand stoked her short brown hair, and he held her tightly as she cried. "Shhh. Don't cry. I'm here." He paused, kissing her head. "Go to sleep, sweetie. We'll need to be up again soon. Try to get a few hours, at least."

She shook her head. "I can't sleep. Not now. I…I just can't."

Christine closed her eyes and lay there silently, listening to her father's heartbeat. _I wonder what Erik is doing right now? Is he sleeping? Or is he thinking of me? _Certainly, she'd never sleep now.

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard her father beginning to sing, his husky, deep voice warming her ear. She recognised the song, one of her father's old Swedish lullabies, but couldn't remember all of the words. _It's something about a mother troll and her babies, I think. I remember him singing it when I was little…_

She closed her eyes again, contented. She'd always loved her father's voice. _Although…I thought I'd never hear it again. Will I ever hear Erik's voice again? _Her mind tried to imagine how Erik would sound if he tried singing the song.

Michael finished, giving his daughter another kiss. "Come on, honey, get some sleep."

"I told you, I can't. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry about." He paused, and she heard him take a deep breath. "Once, there was young woman who was travelling to the woods to bring home her family's cows, when she lost her way…"

She laughed. "Is this the one about the snake?"

"I've told you it before?"

"Mm-hm. There's a snake in a house, and she kisses him, and he turns into a prince, right?"

"Darn. I guess you're too old for my stories now?"

She smiled. "That'll never happen, Daddy! What about a scary story? I always loved those."

"Honey, I'm trying to get you to sleep! Not scare you so you stay up half the night!" He grinned. "Hang on, let me think…" A story came to him. "Okay, here we go…In a little village, there was a church. Perfectly ordinary, save for one thing: a ghost, a spectral phantom who remained always there, never leaving, never moving, sitting in at the back facing the altar in silence. This ghost was frightening to everyone who saw him, his deep black eyes, his face like a death's head. And the spectre's name was Torre Jeppe."

Christine snuggled closer, eager to hear more.

"One evening, three tailors were working at a farm together. They were laughing and joking together with much merriment, when one of them called for the farmer's daughter to join them. She was said to be very brave, and they asked her if she would be strong enough to go to the church and bring Torre Jeppe to them. And she agreed that she would, in exchange for a new dress from them. The girl went to church and brought Torre Jeppe back to the farmstead on her back. He sat there with them, his dark eyes staring at them, as they shied away. The tailors were deeply disturbed when they saw him, never believing she would do it, and deeply regretting having asked." A strand of Christine's hair fell into her eyes, and he brushed it away. "They begged her to take him back there, and they would give her another new dress. So the girl took him again on her back, and began to take him home. But when she tried to set him down, he wrapped his arms around her neck, and refused to let her go."

Michael glanced at Christine. Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she was almost asleep. He lowered his voice a little.

"As he held her, she told him sternly to let her go, and at last he told her, "I will only let you go if you promise to go to the brook tonight and ask three times: 'Anna Perstochter, do you forgive Torre Jeppe?'" The girl promised to go, and he freed her. After walking to the brook, she called out three times as he'd asked her: 'Anna Perstochter, do you forgive Torre Jeppe?' And after the third time, she heard a woman's voice from the water: 'If God has forgiven him, then I forgive him, too.'" The girl returned to the church to tell Torre Jeppe what the woman's voice had said. He was very grateful, thanking her, and promising that if she returned to the church again at sunrise, he would give her a reward. The girl went home to bed, and as the sun rose, she returned. There in the back of the church she found a bushel of silver coins. Later, she collected her two new dresses from the tailors. But Torre Jeppe was never seen again."

"Hmm." Christine opened her eyes slightly, smiling. "I liked that one."

Michael smiled broadly. "I thought you would." He wasn't exactly sure what had made him pick that particular story, but he was glad he had chosen it. _She seemed to like it. _He tucked her in, his mind drifting back to the past. _I've missed this. It's been such a long time…_ He watched her face carefully. "Is there anything you want me to do, Christine? How can I help you?"

"Dad…" She shook her head, forcing back tears. "You can't…I mean, all I want is…to be back with him."

Michael sighed. "Christine, no…"

"I can't sleep. I can't, not if he's not here with me."

Her father was silent. "You mean…You mean, if he's not in the _room_, or…"

Christine froze. She realised she'd made a dreadful mistake. "I…I meant…"

His stomach lurched, and he felt himself panicking. "Oh, God…Oh, he made you _sleep_ with him?"

"Dad…Dad, it's okay…" _What have I done?_

He hugged her tightly to him, and she saw the look of horror on his face. "Oh, _no_…He made you…" Michael felt sick. _She's as close to me now as she was to him. That sick bastard… _"Christine, did he…Did he make you do anything else?"

"No! No, he didn't…" She took a deep breath. "Dad, Erik didn't hurt me. I promised, remember?"

"I know, but…but why did he…" His voice faltered. "He made you sleep with him…" he repeated weakly.

She took another deep breath, to steady her nerves. "No. Dad, he didn't…He didn't _make_ me."

"Christine, I don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "He didn't…"

Christine bit her lip. "I _wanted_ to sleep…beside him. I…I mean, it wasn't _every_ night, but…"

"Why? Why would you…?"

"Because…" She swallowed. "Because he was sick. He was in the hospital, and I…no, wait, that wasn't the first…Before that, he was upset. Like a day or two before that. He was telling me about himself and his past, and…he was upset." _I'm babbling now. What am I supposed to say to him? _"I…We were sitting together, just in his chair, and…and…" Her father stared at her, wide-eyed. "I mean, he was _crying_. He was so upset, and I just…I just held him for a while, and he…And then I woke up, and it was morning. And I was still there with him." She tried not to cry. "Daddy, please don't be angry."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm not _angry _with you. It's not your fault." He kissed each of her eyelids, stroking her head. "It's all right. As long as he didn't hurt you, that's what matters." _I can't believe he did that. She's such a kind, caring girl, and he exploited her good nature. What the hell was he planning to do once she trusted him enough to sleep beside him? _He shuddered. "What…what happened at the hospital?"

"Oh. Oh, you don't know about that, do you?"

"I mean, I know the police said he was sick, and he made you go to the hospital with him till he -"

"Dad, he didn't _make _me do anything." But she knew her words were falling on deaf ears. _He's not going to listen to me. No one is. _"He got sick, and I had to call for an ambulance for him. So they took him there, and I went with him and stayed till he got better. That's all. And until then, I just…Like at night, he might need me, so I stayed beside him."

He was afraid to ask, but forced the question out. "You mean, in a chair beside him? Or do you mean…?" Her face said it all. "I don't understand," he whispered. "If he didn't make you, then…Did you think he'd hurt you if you didn't?"

"No." Christine didn't know what else to say. There was a terrible sensation inside of her, as she realised there was only one thing left that she _could_ say now. "No, I wanted to be near him. I wanted…" _I think it's time to tell him. _"Okay, dad. Here's the thing. I…" She gazed at his face in the dim light, and she felt awful at the thought of how he'd react. _Okay, deep breath, just get it out quickly. _"I'm in love with him. I love Erik."

Her father was silent for a while, looking at her in disbelief. "You're…you're _what_?"

"I love him, Daddy. I do."

Something in his mind prevented him from processing the statement. "I…I don't understand. What do you mean, you love him?"

"Please, Dad, don't be angry." She felt her heart pounding in her chest, and tried her best to stay calm. "I've gotten to know him, and…we've became friends."

"Friends?"

"Mm-hm. He's a good man, Dad. He's made mistakes, but -"

"'Mistakes' is one word for it, Christine. He…How can you be friends with him after what he did to you?"

She closed her eyes tightly. It hurt her so much to be reminded of how Erik had hurt her. "He's been good to me, Dad. Really. He's suffered so much. He didn't know what he was doing when he…took me. He just wanted to be loved, and…And I've grown to love him. Really, I have."

"Christine…" Michael took her hand. "I don't understand. Maybe…you _think _you love him, but -"

"Dad. I _know _I love him." She felt sick. "_Please_ tell me _you _believe me. Because no one else does." _Actually…I guess Firouz believes me, doesn't he? He's my only hope now._

"I…I think that…" He paused, his mouth half-open. "Christine, you've been through so much. I…I just think you need time to think things through. Just…just give this some time. I think you'll be able to think more clearly once…once…"

"Once what?"

Michael didn't answer. _I don't know. Is she _ever_ going to be back to normal?_

Christine sighed. "Dad, I'm not going to stop loving him. I know you think I'm crazy, but -"

"No. No, I don't think you're crazy, Christine. It's just…You're still so young."

"What, so I have to be lying?" she cried.

"No, that's not…I just meant, you haven't had a chance to learn what real love is."

"I know that Erik and I love each other, and I know we'd do anything for each other. And I…I want to spend the rest of my life with him." She brushed her tears away, shaking at the fearful look on her father's face. "I…I do. I want to be with him again, for the rest of my life."

"Christine…" He took her face in his hands to look her in the eyes. "Christine, you can't be serious."

"I am. I _love _him." It was still difficult to say those words to him. "If you knew Erik like I do, you'd understand. He's suffered so much, but he's so full of love. And…I missed you, Dad, but if you were there or…or if you just knew I was okay…That was all I worried about: how you were feeling. But if I didn't have to worry, then I'd have loved every moment with him. I was _happy_ with him."

"How could you be happy with him?" He hugged her tightly. "You must have been so _scared_."

"Well, yeah, at first. But he was so kind to me. So I wasn't scared of him for very long. And then, I started to love him. I mean, he's a good man. Surely you're glad that he treated me so well?"

"Of _course _I am. I'm so happy that you were okay, and that…But Christine, you can't love him, even if -"

"_Please_ believe me. If you knew him, you'd believe that I could love him."

"I…Christine, _no_. You can't make excuses for him. Even if he didn't hurt you, that doesn't make him a good man. Why would he…Why would he take you away from me?"

"Dad…" That thought bothered her, too. _But I know Erik didn't mean any harm. I have to remember that. _"He didn't mean to hurt you. He's suffered so much in his life, and he just wanted to be loved. For the first time in his life…I was there with him. I was there to love him, and…He loves me too, Dad. He does. You don't realise how much he's suffered. I mean, he's treated like a monster everywhere he goes. People are so cruel to him because of how he looks. He's never even had a girlfriend before, because no woman except me has ever given him a chance."

"That doesn't matter, Christine. That can't excuse what he did to you. Even if he's suffered, that didn't give him the right to…" He sighed. "Anyway, what does how he look have to do with anything?"

Christine suddenly realised the obvious. _He doesn't know how Erik looks, does he? How could he know? Maybe if he knew, he'd understand. _"His face is…disfigured. It's really serious, actually. He's suffered, and…" She realised how much she was repeating herself, to no avail. _This could all take a while. I haven't even told him that I'm engaged to Erik yet…_"I'll explain it in the morning, Dad. You can go back to bed. Maybe I should try to sleep."

Michael smiled. "At last, you listen to me!" He got out of the bed, standing for a moment watching her in silence. "Goodnight, sweetie. We'll talk about it later, okay?" He tucked the sheets back her, hugging her tight. "But…just remember, that…One day, you might feel very differently. And…I just want you to be happy." He prayed silently under his breath as he went back to his own bed. _Please, God, let things work out. I love her so much. I just want her to be happy, no matter what. No matter what I have to do, please let me help get better again._

Neither of them got a lot of sleep that night.

* * *

Erik's night hadn't been much better. His cell was cold and rather cramped. The bed was far too small for his elongated frame, meaning that the hours passed slowly as he tried his best to get comfortable, without success. The electric lights stayed switched on all through the night, and even with the sheets pulled up over his head, the light still managed to seep through to him. His left arm ached with pain and his head was exhausted from answering the police's questions. And to make getting to sleep even harder for him, he spent the entire night being watched by policemen, who sat outside the cell sipping coffee, not even trying to keep their voices down as they chatted.

Erik was used to that. It wasn't the first night he'd spent locked up, after all. But this time was the worst of all, because he couldn't stop thinking about Christine, desperate to see her again. Whenever he closed his eyes, her face appeared, and he cried at the knowledge that he'd have to wait a long time before he was able to meet her once again for real. Until then, he would have to make do with his memories.

And, of course, it really didn't help matters that the Voice seemed to have come back, as much as he wanted to ignore it. It taunted him for having ended up in jail, and endlessly replayed the words of the police officers. _Forcing her to stay with you…You don't think it hurt her?_

Erik shook his head. _Christine loves me. The time we've spent together was so wonderful, and I know she enjoyed it, at least once she loved me. _He smiled. _She loves me. I have to remember that. When I'm free from here, I can make everything better. A new house for us, somewhere they'll never find us. We'll be together, married and in love. That will be perfect. I just have to stay strong until then. Until it's safe for us to be together again._

_By that time, she'll have forgotten you._

_No, that's not true. Christine loves me, with all of her heart. She's shown me that. _He could still remember how soft her lips had been against his and how warm she had felt in his arms. _I promised her we'd be together again, and she'll wait for me. I know it._

_Why would she wait? Why would she waste any more time with you? She could do so much better…_

Erik squeezed his left hand into a fist, hoping the pain would block out the Voice. It helped a little.

The door opened outside and he heard the two officers getting up. No doubt they were changing shifts. He got out of bed, watching them stepping back from the cell and he wanted to laugh. They were all afraid of him. They knew he was dangerous. He wondered which officers he'd be facing next. Usually, they seemed to take it two at a time: even though he was being watched by surveillance cameras, no one particularly wanted to be left alone with him.

"No, that's fine. I don't mind taking it from here."

The voice was all too familiar to Erik. Groaning, he sat back on his bed. _It's too early in the morning to deal with him._

"Don't worry," Firouz assured the other officers as they left. "Erik and I are old friends. Aren't we, Erik?"

"Go to hell, Daroga."

"Good morning to you too, Erik. How did you sleep?" Erik ignored him. Firouz walked to the opposite side of the room. "I'm going to get some coffee. Is there anything I can get you, Erik?"

"Get me a double vodka."

"Glass of water. With ice?"

"Why are you here, Firouz? Did you come just to annoy me, or…?"

"No, no, of course not." The drinks dispenser whirred into life as his coffee was poured, and he filled a cup with cold water for Erik. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you, Daroga. Just leave me alone." Erik lay back on the bed. "Let me sleep."

"Very well. I'll just leave your water here then," he said, placing the plastic cup on the floor before going back to fetch his coffee. "But I thought you might like to talk."

"Why the hell would you think that?"

He settled into one of the folding chairs outside Erik's cell. "Because I spoke to Christine yesterday. She's worried about you."

Erik sat up with a start, pulling a chair over to the door of his cell. "You spoke to her?" Firouz nodded. "What did she say to you? She's worried about me?"

"That's right. And she's sorry. That engagement ring she says you gave her. She lost it."

Erik stared at him. "What do you mean she lost it?"

"She thinks it fell off her finger at some point while we were taking her to the police station. She wanted me to tell you that she's sorry, and she feels terrible for losing it."

He sipped his water. "It's just a ring. But Christine's okay?"

"Fine. Very happy to be back with her father, I'm sure."

Erik didn't know what to say to that. _I'm glad she's happy. She really did miss him. _But surely she missed Erik, too? That was the dilemma he was in. _When she was with me, she missed her father. Now she's with him again, and… _"Does she miss me?"

Firouz paused. "Yes. She seemed desperate to see you, actually."

He couldn't help but smile. _My Christine…We'll be together again someday._

Firouz was silent for a moment. "She also wanted me to tell you that she loves you. Very much, in fact. All she wants is to marry you and spend the rest of her life with you."

Erik's heart soared at his words. _Oh, she still loves me… _"Did…Did she say anything else about me?"

"Apparently, she spoke very highly of you in her interviews. She told everyone what a good man you are."

He looked at him, a quizzical look in his eyes. "Are you supposed to be telling me things like that?"

"What are you going to do? File a complaint against me?"

Erik grinned. "Thank you."

"Well, I had to find out the truth about you. Whether or not you had…changed." He sighed. _Perhaps Christine is right. Erik does seem…different. _But he would have to find out more to be sure. "So are we friends again?"

"When were we _ever_ friends?"

"Hmm. Well, I suppose that's debatable. But what about now?"

He sneered. "Are you kidding me, Daroga? You've ruined everything for us. I was going to marry her. I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. You've taken that away from me. And you think that passing on a message from her to me makes everything all right?"

"You know I had to do what I did, Erik. I thought Christine was in danger. I'm sure that you would have done the same."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you didn't trust me not to hurt her?"

"You've killed people, Erik. I didn't know if you _could_ be trusted not to hurt her."

Erik nodded slowly. _It doesn't matter what he thinks, anyway. Only Christine matters now. And I have to get back with her soon. _"So what's happening to me now? Prison, I suppose. Unless they're still after my life?"

Firouz smiled. "There you should be safe. I highly doubt that any judge is going to allow your extradition if it means the death penalty." _At least, I certainly hope not. _The last thing he wanted was Erik's death.

"Prison then." He sighed. "I'll die in prison. I won't survive away from Christine. And I'm sure it won't be a pleasant experience even if she does get to visit."

"I'm sorry, Erik."

"Hmm. You hear stories about those places. At least I'm well set to defend myself." He tried to sound saddened at the thought. In reality, he was excited – terrified, but excited – at the thought of what was coming soon. _Little does he know I won't be going to prison._

Firouz looked around him, making sure they were still alone, and leaned in towards Erik. "There _is _something else, Erik. I'm going to do my best to get you a good psychiatrist. There's still a chance they could -"

"You want me to plead insanity, Daroga?"

He shrugged. "There are good grounds for it, I think. I highly doubt you're completely sane."

"Thank you."

"Christine told me, Erik. You're still hearing the voices?" When Erik didn't answer, he stared at him. "_Are _you?"

"It's just _one_ voice," he admitted.

"Wonderful. That's the same voice as before, yes? The same one that tells you to drink? The same one" – he pointed to Erik's arm – "that tells you to take those drugs? Tells you to cut yourself?" He was sure he caught the faint glimmer of a smile in Erik's eyes, and he shook his head. "Did it tell you to take Christine?"

"No. That was my idea, I think."

"Ah." He gave Erik a wry smile. "So neither of you have good ideas?"

"Shut up, Firouz."

"Oh, it's true. I'll make a note not to take advice from either of you. But I think you have a good case, Erik."

"It doesn't matter."

"What, you'd rather go to prison than to a hospital?"

"A lunatic asylum. I can't live there."

Firouz sighed, his jade-green eyes rolling in his head. "Erik, I'm doing my best. If you really prefer prison, then that's up to you. But I told Christine what I'm telling you, and she agrees with me. She'd rather you were in a hospital."

"It doesn't matter," he repeated softly. "All I want is to be with her. To marry her."

He set his empty cup down on the floor, and Firouz watched him wincing in pain. "Erik, see a doctor."

"I'm fine."

"You're _not _fine, Erik."

"Well, I'll _be _fine soon enough. It'll heal."

He shook his head. "You're too stubborn, Erik. And you have to give the morphine up. You'll kill yourself otherwise."

"I told you, I tried to."

"Well, try again. You'll get help with your addiction in the hospital, I'm sure." He didn't mention the possibility of prison. _Erik doesn't need to be reminded of that._

"I don't need any help," he hissed. "I was doing just fine with Christine." He rubbed his forearm gently. "Honestly, I thought she'd hate me when she found out. When she actually accepted me for who I was…" A smile crossed his face. "And the whole time, I didn't have my mask. She accepted my face, too. Do you have any idea what that's like, Daroga? To have a woman love you completely, even with your flaws?"

Firouz shrugged. "That's not entirely true, is it, Erik?"

"What?"

"You lied to her, Erik. Or at least, you hid the truth from her. You tell me how much you love her, and yet you lied to her."

Erik felt his anger igniting again deep inside of him. "You'd better explain yourself, Daroga. Be careful now."

To Erik's annoyance, Firouz leaned in closer to his cell, obviously not fazed by him. "I told Christine what you've done. I told her you've killed people."

_Oh, God…_ "You told her _what_?!"

"I had to tell her, Erik. She deserves to know the truth about you."

Erik's heart sank. Suddenly, he felt dead. _It's over, isn't it? How could Christine love me now?_ He didn't want to live. _There's no point now, no point in anything. Is it even worth escaping now?_ Utterly defeated, he could barely speak. "Why?"

"She deserves to know," he repeated. "She was going to marry you, Erik. You're…unstable. Any wife of yours would have to be prepared for that."

"But…I've changed -"

"You _haven't_ changed, Erik. Not really. Perhaps you've stopped killing, but you haven't changed. Your rage is still uncontrollable, and Christine has had to deal with it all."

"That's not true!" he blurted out, between tears. "I've never hurt her. I've never…never…" His voice faltered. _He's right, isn't he? I've treated her so badly. _Stumbling to his feet, he retreated to the back of his cell, turning away from Firouz as he cried. _He's right. How many times have I lost my temper around her? _"I tried so hard," he whispered. _I don't deserve her. Maybe…it's better for her to be away from me. Somewhere I can't hurt her…_ His whole body was racked with his sobbing, his lungs barely able to take in air. _Christine… _"She doesn't…love me…"_ I'm never going to see her again…and that's okay. No, that's what's best. I can't hurt her this way. _Forgetting everything else, he lay down on the bed, burying himself under the covers.

"Erik?"

He heard Firouz's voice, but ignored him. He just wanted to be alone. _What am I going to do now? What am I supposed to do without her? _Memories swirled around in his head of his life before Christine.

"_Erik?_"

He forced himself to sit up. "What do I do, Firouz? I can't go back. I can't go back to the way it was. I wanted to kill myself, you know. I couldn't live on my own anymore. And then…I _found _her, and…And everything was okay then. I had someone to live for. And now she hates me, and I have to give her up…"

"Erik, have you been listening to anything I've said?"

"What?" Erik wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Firouz sighed, smiling slightly. "What was the first thing I told you when I came in here? Do you even remember?" He regarded Erik's blank expression, shaking his head. "Honestly, Erik, I put my career on the line for you. The least you could do was listen to me." Erik went back to his seat, watching Firouz intently. "Christine still loves you, Erik. After all of this…She still wants to spend the rest of her life with you."

_She loves me? _"But you said that…" A smile spread its way across his face as the words came back to him. "She still loves me? Even after finding out the truth?"

"Well, it's…It's more complicated than that, I suppose. She didn't believe me. She didn't believe that you could be capable of such atrocities."

The sharp sting of guilt pierced through Erik's conscience. Part of him was glad that Christine thought so highly of him, that she trusted him, and felt that he was a good man, even defending him when others told her otherwise. And yet…_What do I do now? I can't hide this from her. When we're together again – and we will be, as soon as possible – what will I do?_ No doubt, Christine would demand to know the truth, and there was no way he could hide it from her now. _She'll want to know why they think I've killed people. _"What am I going to tell her?"

The sound of Erik's voice made Firouz worry about him. _He sounds like a broken man. And I can't stand the idea of him suffering anything more. _"Tell her the truth," he answered finally. "Perhaps…Perhaps she would understand about…" His voice trailed off: he knew he was clutching at straws. "You have suffered a great deal, and Miss Daaé is an understanding young woman. I think she would still wish to help you."

"I don't care if she wants to _help _me, Daroga. Do you think she'd still love me? Will she still want to marry me?"

"I don't know, Erik. Frankly, that's a moot point, anyway." He gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, Erik, but…I really don't see how you could be married now. You in a hospital, her maybe visiting you every week or so…"

_Oh, of course…_ Erik put on a mournful expression, trying to look convincing. "Yes, I guess you're right. I won't get to marry her now." Knowing his plans, it was very hard not to smile, but he tried his best. "But…For argument's sake, say I was released. Maybe someday I'll be well enough, and they can let me go -"

"Erik, I'm sorry, but you know that's -"

"Yes, but's let's pretend it _does_. And they let me go, and I can be with her again…Do you think she would marry me? Even after everything?"

Even before Firouz had answered him, he could see the answer in his face, and he felt himself coming back to life. "I think…Maybe, she would still want to be with you, if she could. But," he added immediately, "I don't know for sure. Don't take my word for it, Erik. I don't want to see you hurt…"

"Of course." _There's hope. And that's enough to live for. Just the hope that she'll be mine again… _"I'm going to make things work out, Firouz. I'd do anything for her. I'm going to be with her again -"

"Erik, you need help."

"I knowthat, Firouz, I _know_ that. Do I really need to be locked up? You say I'm crazy, and I need to give up the drugs – I get it. So I'll get doctors, psychiatrists, see them three, four, five times a week, or whatever it takes, and I'll get better. And Christine won't ever have to worry about me again."

Firouz laughed. "You know, that's exactly what Christine told me. 'We'll get married, he can get professional help, and he'll be fine.' That's what she told me. Except…She wanted to help you, too. She was ready to do it." He paused. "Maybe you're right, Erik. Maybe things could work out for the two of you."

"Except I'm stuck in here. Get me out, Daroga."

He nodded. "Like I said, I'll get a psychiatrist to see you. A good lawyer, too."

"Great. Maybe he'll convince the judge that I'm a good man and they could let me go."

"Erik, I'm getting you a lawyer, not a _djinn_."

Erik grinned. "But you think I have a chance of going to a hospital instead of prison?"

"A reasonable chance, I hope."

He nodded. "So what's going to happen to me now?"

Firouz stroked his beard. "In a day or so, you'll be taken for the arraignment."

"Arraignment…Where will that be? Where's the courthouse?"

"I think it's…about a two- or three-hours' drive from here. It was thoughtful of you to commit a crime in such a rural area."

"Of course."

"But…Yes, a few days from now. So don't get too comfortable here."

He snorted. "Yes, this place _is_ the height of luxury. I'm sure I'll be sorry to see it go."

"Well I'll try my best to help you, Erik. What is it you need?"

"A better bed. Heating. Books to read. For the police officers outside my cell to shut up."

Firouz smiled. "Well, the books I could maybe get."

"That's a start, I suppose."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Erik considered what Firouz had just told him. _A few days' time, I'll be out of here. That's perfect. I'll be free…_ But he tried to remain realistic. _I shouldn't take my freedom for granted. I have to think this through. Everything has to go just right. _"So, how am I getting there?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"A police van, I'd imagine. That's usually used for longer journeys."

_Hmm. I'd be there for a while. Plenty of time to plan everything out. Plenty of time to find the perfect moment. _"Will you be there, Daroga?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"No reason. I just wanted to ask." The thought of Firouz being there made him worried. _How much can I trust him? If I tried to escape, would he stop me? He said he thinks Christine and I could work things out…but would he let me go back to her? What if he tried to catch me, stop me from getting away? _Erik looked at Firouz through the bars of his cell. _I have to be free. I have to be with her again. And if he tries to stop me…maybe I'll have to kill him. _The thought of that sickened him. _I can't. I can't kill again. But…No. If he tries to stop me, I don't have a choice. I have to be back with Christine. _But the idea continued to turn his stomach as he considered it.

He sat in silence until Firouz's shift was over.

* * *

Michael was woken by a knock at the hotel-room door. He left Christine, who was still sleeping soundly, and went to investigate. He recognised the policewoman from the day before. "Hey, it's Miss…uh…Whiteford, right?"

"Oh, call me Jess!" She peered past him into the room. "Oh, is Christine still asleep?" she whispered.

"Yeah, she…She couldn't really sleep last night, so…Do you need us at the station?"

"Well, we still have some things to sort out, but we can do that later, if you like."

He turned to look at Christine, who was beginning to stir. "No, it's probably best to get it over with, I guess. She'll be awake in a minute anyway, I think."

"Great. I'll come and get you in an hour? Is that long enough for you?"

He looked at her, puzzled. "You'll come and get us? The…station's only a few minutes away…"

Jessica nodded, forcing a positive smile. "No, that's true, but…It's best if we drive you straight there. That's okay?"

"…I…I guess so…"

"Great," she repeated. "I'll be back in an hour, okay?"

"Okay. I'll make sure we're both ready."

"Okay." She turned to leave, but stopped herself. "Oh, I forgot…If I were you…" She chewed her lip. "I wouldn't watch the news. The media can be…well, you know. I wouldn't worry myself, if I were you."

He nodded. He didn't particularly want to see the media's take on the events. There had been enough of that for him while Christine was missing, most of it involving awful speculations about how she was most likely dead.

An hour later, both of them were ready to leave the hotel with Jessica. Christine felt mentally exhausted during the short car journey back to the station, but tried to make herself feel better by remembering that she was going back to the place Erik was. _Although…What if this is the closest I get to him ever again? _But no, she had to stay positive. _Didn't Erik promise we'd be together again? I have to keep believing that. _

Approaching the station, the car slowed to a halt, and Jessica came around her side of the car to open the door, escorting her through the camera crews gathered outside. Christine barely noticed them, ignoring their questions. _Erik's the only one who matters now._

They made it inside the station, and Christine heard Bob's voice, still outside. "Guys, there's going to be a spokesperson for the police out to make a statement in a few hours. If I could just get you to move along…"

Jessica turned to Christine. "Are you hungry? Neither of you have had breakfast, have you? We should probably get you fed before we do anything else. I'll send someone out for some food."

_Another interview. I'm going to need my strength for that…_ "Okay. Just get me anything." She sat in a chair in the corner of the room, trying to relax. _How much more information are they going to want from me? It's just so exhausting having to watch everything I say._

"Baguette, Christine? Chicken salsa?"

"Fine, Dad." _On the plus side, maybe this will be the end of it. A few more hours, they'll have everything they need, and it'll all be over. And then I guess I'm… _She suddenly felt sick. _Oh, no…Once they have everything they need, they'll send me back home. That's the only reason I'm still here…_ Christine wanted to cry. _I can't go back home and leave Erik here._

Her mind tried to concoct a plan. _Perhaps I could stall for time. If I could just come up with more things to tell them… _But no. The longer she spoke with them, the greater the chance she'd get Erik into serious trouble. _I have to do my best to make him sound as good as possible. If he's to escape going to jail, then it's up to me to convince them he's a good man. And then…A hospital. _She didn't know what would happen then. _Could I visit him there? _She wasn't sure. _When am I going to see him again? _

Jessica had just finished talking to one of the interns, obviously sending him for the food. "Jessica?"

She turned, walking towards Christine with a friendly smile. "Yeah, Christine?"

Christine swallowed, trying to calm herself. "Do you know…what's going to happen now? I mean, after I've finished with my statement and stuff? I mean…Will I be going home?"

"Oh. I…I suppose so. Once you're finished, we'll get everything sorted out for your arrival back home. Try to get you there as soon as possible."

Christine felt herself going pale. _What if I tell her I don't want to go home? But…No, that's silly. Erik isn't going to stay here forever…is he? _"What about…What about Erik? What's happening to him?"

The policewoman looked at her with a strange expression, which Christine couldn't understand. _Maybe she's worried that I've gone crazy. _"Well…He'll be sent for the arraignment in a few days. After that -"

"What's that?"

"An arraignment? He'll be taken to court, and they'll read him out what he's being charged with. And he'll have to make a plea of guilty or not guilty, and they'll give a rough date for the trial. It's a…formality, mostly."

Christine looked up. Her father was standing talking to Officer Bailey, out of earshot. "Can I go to it?"

"You…can, but it's not necessary. It doesn't take very long, so…"

"But I _can_ go? I'd be there while it was happening?"

She hesitated. "Yes." She took her hand gently. "Maybe have a talk with your dad about it, okay? Decide what you want to do."

Christine nodded. She certainly knew what _she _wanted to do. _I have to see him again, even if it's only for a few minutes. _But she wondered about how to ask her father. _Maybe he'll tell me I can't go._

The baguettes arrived soon afterwards, and she and her father ate together in the police lounge. She didn't try to bring the subject up with him. After eating all of her food, and gathering all of her strength, she went back into the interview room.

It was over within an hour. Christine had felt herself growing steadily more afraid as the questions seemed to dry up. _They don't have anything else to ask me. _Officer Reid handed her the stack of papers that made up her statement, and they left her alone for a while as she checked them over. It was slightly surreal for her to read – written in first-person in a stranger's hand, with tiny details she hardly remembered giving written out cohesively – but she was pleasantly surprised that nothing had been altered of what she'd said, or how she'd said it. She remembered telling them about being there in the hospital with him after he took ill, how she'd sat close to him for hours every day. There it was, exactly as she'd said: 'I felt safe in his arms, and I knew he wouldn't hurt me'. Christine could hardly believe that they'd kept that in, but it made her a lot happier. _I want everyone to hear that. It's so important for them to see how he's a kind, gentle man._

After reading though everything, she signed her name at the bottom, feeling oddly relieved. Having to go back home without Erik frightened her, but she tried her best to think positively. _The arraignment thing is only a few days away, Jessica said. So if Dad lets me go, then I'll probably get to stay here until then. And after that…I guess I'll just have to see what happens. I've done everything I can to help Erik._

She left the room, wondering what was going to happen to her. Jessica took her hand, smiling. "How are you feeling, Christine?"

"Fine."

"Good. Up for a surprise?"

Her heart soared for a moment, but soon came back down. _Obviously, it's not going to be that I'm meeting Erik. _She nodded.

Christine followed her down the hallway to the lounge, where a man and woman were standing outside, talking to her father. The woman turned, her hand flying to her face as she tried to stop herself from crying. "Oh, Christine…" She kissed her cheek and hugged her tight. "You're all right?"

"I'm fine, Mrs Giry." Christine had known her since she was a baby, but had never been able to dispense with the formalities completely. "It's…It's really nice to see you again. Thanks for coming."

The man – Meg's father Jules – gave her a smile. "No problem. Great to see you safe, kiddo." He ruffled her hair.

"Megan's in there," Constance said, gesturing to the lounge. Christine couldn't help but notice how forced everything seemed from them. _I hope Meg isn't the same. Hopefully just her usual…straightforward self. Hmm…_

"Go on in, sweetie." Michael said gently, ushering her inside. "We'll be right here, okay?"

Christine stepped into the room, feeling strangely nervous. "Meg?"

"Christine!" Meg rushed to her, embracing her tightly. "Oh, Chris, I'm so sorry. It…It wasn't my fault. Rachel was supposed to be watching the drinks. And…And all these glasses fell on the floor, so I had to help the guy get them all. She should have been watching."

"Meg…"

"And then you were gone, and we were all like, 'Where's Christine?', and _they _were all saying, 'Oh, she's probably gone home already'. But…But it was me who said, 'No, her bag's still here, and besides, she's not _like _that, and she said she'd drive us home…'"

"Meg…"

"And then someone said, 'Oh, she looked sick, maybe her drink was spiked, or something', and then stupid Rachel said, 'No it's not, see?" and then _she _drank some, and _she _got sick, and…"

"Meg, stop!" Christine took her firmly by the shoulders. "It's okay! It's okay, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Meg blinked. "You're okay?"

"Yeah, of course." She gestured to herself with a smile. "See? All in one piece. No harm done. Don't worry."

"You're…really okay?"

"Mm-hm. I'm fine."

Meg sighed, her body relaxing. "We were all really worried about you, Chris. _I _was really worried. And I…I just worried all the time about where you were, and what was going to happen next, and what the police would ask me, and -"

"Here, sit down." She took a seat on the sofa, and Meg sat beside her. Looking up at the doorway, she saw her father, still busy talking with Meg's parents. "Don't worry about it," she repeated.

"Your…Your hair looks nice."

"Thanks. Yeah, I…did it myself."

"Oh." Meg paused. "So…So what happened to you? I mean, your dad said you were okay, but…Did he really not _hurt_ you? I mean, did he…?"

Her question dangled in the air, unfinished, but Christine understood. _Some things are hard to ask._ "It's okay. He didn't hurt me."

She nodded, obviously relieved. "So…What did he want?"

Christine smiled. "He…He loves me. He took me so that I could love him back. But he's a good man. He treated me really well."

Meg frowned. "He's…He's nice? He was nice to you?"

"Mm-hm."

She shook her head. "But he's a murderer. He's killed people."

_What? _Christine gasped. "What…How did you…How did you hear about that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's in the paper. Wait a second…"

Meg rummaged through her bag, pulling out a crumpled newspaper which Christine took from her, her hands shaking. Her photograph – she recognised it as a school picture taken the previous year – smiled up at her. Almost the whole front page of the tabloid was dedicated to her story, celebrating her safe return. Her attention however was soon drawn to the smaller photograph in the next column. It was of Erik, in his usual suit and tie, his face neither smiling nor frowning. She grinned. _That's so like him. _He wasn't looking at the camera, and she supposed that whoever had taken the photograph had done so without his knowledge. _I guess he wouldn't have let them take a picture of him without his mask on if he'd known. _She looked at the photograph for a few moments, revelling in seeing his face again.

Forcing herself to look away, she scanned the article, and noted with sadness that the journalist had indeed referred to Erik's past. _No: his _alleged _past. They don't know if he's killed people. I know he hasn't. But now everyone's going to think he's a murderer._

Something else suddenly caught her eye. Looking back at Erik's photograph, she noticed the caption underneath and it ignited her anger: _'The Face of a Monster'._

_How could anyone write that? _Christine turned back to Meg, annoyed at her. "What, and you believe this? Just because the paper says it true?"

She shrugged again, unconcerned. "He has, though. See?" She reached for the newspaper to demonstrate her point, but Christine held it tight. "The writer says he was on the run from the police. On the FBI's most wanted list, too."

Christine rolled her eyes. "I highly doubt that, Meg. Terrorists, sex traffickers, drug smugglers are on that list. Not Erik."

"Yeah, they have murderers on there, too. And he's not technically a murderer, anyway. He's an assassin. He killed people for money -"

"Meg, shut up. That's not true." She almost wanted to laugh. _Imagine, Erik killing people for money. How could my Erik even think_ _about doing that? Or…even _begin_ to think about it? _She was even more convinced now that the claims were ludicrous._ He's probably been framed for it by someone else. Poor Erik._

"Well, why would they say it if it's not true?"

"Meg, it's the papers. They say anything."

"Yeah, but the police were saying it, too. He's killed people."

"_Megan_. Stop it." Jules Giry called sternly from the doorway, and Christine saw that all three adults were looking at them. At the very least they'd overheard Meg's last remark. _Great. Now I have to explain all of this to my dad._

Meg gave him a slight nod, changing the subject when they had all turned back. "Anyway, I'm glad you're okay. What was it like, then? Being there with him? Was he really nice to you?"

"Yeah, he was. Really nice, Meg. He…treated me like a guest. Like I said, he loves me, so…He treated me really well. Bought me lots of nice things, and…"

She'd got Meg's attention. "What sort of nice things?"

Christine smiled. "Well, you know. My favourite books and music, things like that. He'd make me my favourite foods, and he'd play and sing for me…" She could see she was losing Meg's attention, so she changed track, playing to Meg's sensibilities. "And…New clothes. Designer things, really expensive. Jewellery…Hey, you remember that perfume I liked? The Chanel one?" Meg nodded. "He bought me it. A big bottle of it, too."

"Wow." Meg laughed. "Maybe he's not so bad for a crazy guy -"

"Meg, he's not crazy. Not at all." _Except for the voices. _But she wouldn't tell Meg about that. "Please don't call him that."

She laughed. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I care about him."

"Why?" Meg looked at Christine, studying her face. "Are you…in love with him, or something?"

She didn't bother arguing with her. _Everyone else knows now, anyway. _"Yes. Yes, I am."

"You're…You're kidding, right?"

"No."

Meg didn't say anything for a while, staring at her, her mouth slightly ajar. "But…How could you love him? He's so…" Christine waited for a while, wondering if Meg would ever finish. "He's really old," she decided.

She sighed. "Meg, he's not _old_. He's old_er_, but not -"

"He's forty-seven."

Christine blinked, looking back to her newspaper. _'Erik Rossignol, 47, was taken into police custody…' _"Huh. I didn't know that. I thought maybe…forty at the most?" She shrugged. "It's hard to tell, I guess. I never thought to ask him."

"What, you don't…you don't care?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I love him, so… No matter what age he is, he's still Erik, right?"

Meg paused, her lip curled. "But he's…old," she repeated. "It's…_weird_."

"How is it weird?"

"Because…It just _is_."

Christine grinned. "Meg…"

She could sense that Meg was racking her brain for something to say. "Well…He'll die sooner than you. By…a lot, probably."

"Hmm." _I guess I knew that already. _She thought for a few moments, considering it in silence.

Meg looked at her, trying to decipher what she was thinking. "Well?" she asked her finally.

To Meg's confusion, she was actually _smiling_. "It doesn't matter. I love Erik, and…You're right. He's nearly thirty years older, and…and even if he's healthy and he lives a long life, yeah. He'll still die first." She looked back at Erik's photograph, her smile deepening at the sight of his face. There was nothing she wanted more than to be back with him. "But…That's okay. I have to deal with that. Because, what else can I do?"

"You…You could marry someone else? Or just not be with _him_."

"Exactly. If I married someone else, I'd never love him as deeply. Or I could just not marry…Either way, I wouldn't be with Erik. Either way, I'd be miserable. It wouldn't make any sense, Meg. If I decided not to be with Erik just because he's older…I'd be crazy. What's worse? Losing him in thirty, thirty-five years, or losing him _now_? At least I'd have those thirty years with him."

"I don't know," Meg answered, clearly unconvinced by her argument. "Won't it be more difficult to lose him later on? You'll be older, too. You'll have to spend the last years of your life on your own. Unless you marry again, I guess…"

"No, I couldn't do that. Not after Erik."

"Yeah. So…That'll be difficult, right?" Her eyes widened. "Why…are you still smiling?"

"Don't you get it?" Even as she smiled, she could feel the tears beginning to well up. "When my mother died…My dad only got eight years with her. And, for two years of that, she was sick. And…I remember one time, a few years ago, I think, one time when I asked him, 'Dad, do you think you'll ever get married again?' And he said, 'I can't. I still love your mother. With all my heart.' So I said, 'If you knew…if you knew when you met her that you'd only get eight years, would you still marry her? Even if you knew that you'd be on your own for the rest of your life?' And he just smiled, and said, 'Christine, if I knew I'd only get one _day _with her, I'd still do it.' He said, 'One day with the one you love…That's worth a lifetime.' And I've never forgotten that." She brushed away her tears, feeling stronger. "Anyway, I won't be on my own. I'll still have my friends, and…And I'll have a _family_. I mean, we'll have children together, grandchildren, by then. I won't be alone. And I'll always have those memories of him."

Only one thing bothered her. _First, I need to be back with him. I've done everything I can, and now I just have to wait. Erik promised we'd be together again. I have to believe that._

Meg paused. "But…He's…He's really _ugly_."

Christine didn't bother to reply. She knew then and there that their friendship was over, and she found herself unable to care.

She sat staring at the photograph of Erik, imagining in her mind being with him again. Neither she nor Meg had noticed that the Constance and Jules were no longer outside the room, or that Michael was now alone in the doorway, having listened to almost every word of their conversation. To say that he was torn was an understatement. He was deeply moved by Christine's words, and now he wasn't sure of anything. _I think…she really does love him. She's thought all this through. And now…I don't know. I don't know what to do now. _He watched his daughter as she sat in silence with her newspaper. She was now holding it close to her, inches from her chest, as if it was taking all of her strength not to press it tightly to her heart. _She's suffering. She really wants to be back with him. _The thought of that made him sick with anger. _He's hurt her so much, and she wants to be back with him. He's hurt _me_…And now, whatever happens, she's going to suffer. Without him, or with him. But that's just what he does. Everyone he knows, everyone he meets…they suffer, because of him. _He nodded to himself. _If she was back with him, he'd end up hurting her. It didn't happen before…she says…but he can't be trusted. Not at all._

Michael watched Christine as she smiled at the photograph, fingertips tracing the image. _He'll hurt her. And I have to keep her safe from him. This is what's best for her. _With Meg's back turned, Christine lightly kissed Erik's face. Michael sighed. _It _has _to be._

* * *

It was the day of the arraignment. Two more sleepless nights in his cell had not helped Erik at all. On any other occasion, he would have had no energy even to get out of bed, but that day was different.

_Today's the day I escape._

He heard the voices of several police officers. Firouz's was one of them. _So…The Daroga will be there after all. That may complicate things a little. But I have to do this. _

"It's time, Erik. Are you ready to go?"

Erik rose unsteadily to his feet, watching Firouz as he unlocked his cell, surrounded by officers. "I'm ready."

His heart was pounding with excitement, and he held out his arms for the handcuffs, but Firouz ushered him to turn around. "Hands behind you, Erik." He complied. The handcuffs were secured tightly around Erik's thin wrists, as Firouz made sure he couldn't slip out of them. As he did, he took another look at Erik's left forearm, the inside of which was heavily inflamed. As he checked Erik for weapons, he spoke to him softly, his voice full of concern. "Erik, you have to see a doctor."

"I'm fine, Firouz."

"It looks infected, Erik. Isn't it painful?"

"Very much so."

"Hmm. Well, you've brought it on yourself, I suppose. Perhaps this will help you give it up?"

Erik nodded. "I won't do it again. I'm giving everything up for Christine. It's what she wanted."

The officers led him out of his cell and he made his way along the hallway. With policemen on each side of him, it reminded him of death row, and he hoped it wasn't an omen. _No. Things will go as planned. I'll be free soon._

* * *

Michael arrived back at the hotel room. "Hey, sweetie. I brought you breakfast. Your favourite."

Christine grimaced. "Dad, I'm sorry, but…I'm not sure I can eat today."

"Oh. Oh, well…Not to worry." He put the apple and the pretzels to one side. "Maybe later?"

"Mm."

"Hm. Well, it's there, if you want it. I brought you a paper, too, if you…?"

She smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

He'd been unsure whether or not to let her see the news, afraid of the press saying something to upset her. _But when she read the paper Meg brought, she was fine. If anything, she looked a little happier. _Christine had assured him that reading it made her feel more grounded, more aware of what was going on back in the real world.

That wasn't true, of course. She had asked him to bring her as many different newspapers as he could, morning and evening, from the hotel lobby, which she later returned back downstairs…but not before she'd torn out anything about Erik she wanted to keep. As well as information about her abduction, Erik's arrest and everything that had happened in between, sometimes there were stories about Erik's life: his career as an architect, the countries he had visited, and his childhood. One paper had delighted her by printing a picture of Erik as a young child. So much was unchanged: the same large, deep-set golden eyes; the same pale skin tightly stretched across his bones; even the same black hair, albeit not quite as sparse. _He was so cute! I hope our children are as cute as that. _She stored the photographs and articles folded up at the bottom of her suitcase. _When I get home, I think I'll make a scrapbook. Just something nice to look at, until I'm with Erik again._

There were other things about him in the news, too, of course. _Stories about him being a murderer. They don't understand how stupid that is. _When those claims appeared, she ignored them.

She scanned the newspaper quickly, looking for anything of interest, but there didn't appear to be anything new. All she saw was a reminder that the arraignment was that day. She decided to ask him again. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "Have you decided yet?" There was no need for her to clarify what she meant.

Michael paused. "I…I don't know." _I have to decide now, though. If we're going to go, then we'll have to leave in the next hour to be there in time. _"I'm not sure. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know." She paused. "Is it because of what the papers said? About…about what they say he did? Because, I know that's not true. Erik wouldn't kill anyone."

He sighed. "Christine, it's not…It's not as simple as that. Just because he didn't hurt you doesn't mean he's not dangerous -"

"Dad, you can't _possibly _believe what they're saying. They called him an _assassin_. I mean, that's just crazy."

"I'm not saying that all of what they're saying is true. But there might be _some_ truth in it."

"That's ridiculous. I know him, Dad -"

"You've known him for a few weeks, yes, but that's not enough to get to know someone."

She snorted. "It's long enough to know someone isn't a murderer."

"But there might be something in his past, things you don't know…" He held up his hands. "That's all I'm saying."

_Maybe…I guess I don't know for sure what he's done. _Christine already knew that Erik had hidden from the police in his past, enough that he'd built a secret hiding place in his house. _Something _had happened. _But it can't be anything serious. At least…not murder. _She looked at her dad, wondering what she should say. "Maybe he's made some mistakes, and he's learned from them, and just wants to move on…And before you say it, kidnapping me doesn't count," she added. "I told you, he didn't know it was wrong."

Michael opened his mouth to object, but thought against it. "Look, maybe he's learned, maybe the things the papers are saying aren't true…Sweetie, that's a lot of 'maybes'. And…Really, I don't think you should go to this."

"Dad, _please_. I just want to see him again -"

"Exactly. Christine, that's not going to help you. There's no reason for you to see him ever again."

"I love him."

"You have to get over this. I'm so sorry, but you're not going to see him again. He's going to jail, and you're going to have to learn to live without him. What's the point in seeing him one more time if nothing's going to come of it? You're only going to hurt yourself."

Christine fought back tears, wanting to be strong. _I'm going to see him again. I am. _"Even so, I should be there for _him_. He'll need me there. Just to see a friendly face."

"Christine, no. It's a bad idea." He got up, stopping her before she could argue with him. "I've made up my mind. We'll start packing, and we can leave tomorrow morning."

"No! Dad, _please_…"

"Christine, I'm sorry. But that's what we're doing."

She left the room, unable to look at him, heading to the lobby in tears. _What am I going to do? When Erik sees that I'm not there…He's going to think that I left him, that I don't love him anymore…_

There was one thing she could do. _I'm an adult, I guess. I could go on my own. _There was a phone downstairs, and she knew Jessica's contact details. _I'm sure she'd take me there. Legally, my dad can't stop me…_

But Christine knew there was no way she could do such a thing to her father. _I'd hurt him so much. And then, when Erik gets out of the hospital… _An awful thought crossed her mind, but she ignored it. She wouldn't let herself think of prison. _Erik's going to go to hospital, like Firouz said, and he's going to get better. And when he gets better and they let him go, then we can be together again. But my dad…He'll need a _lot _of convincing to let me be with Erik again. Or even to go visit him. _She tried to steady herself, gathering her strength to go back to her room. _So I have to do what he says. Then maybe he'll trust me enough later._

Even so, she felt sick at the thought of Erik being on his own in the courtroom, with no-one there to support him. _I'll have to be there in spirit, I guess. I just hope he understands…I've not abandoned him._

* * *

Locked away inside the police van, the thought of Christine being there at the arraignment hadn't even crossed Erik's mind. Rather, his mind was focussed, waiting for the opportunity to act.

It would be a return trip, to the courthouse and back, giving him at least four hours, possibly as many as six. Trying to escape at the courthouse itself was another option, but Erik didn't dare risk it. There, too many factors would be in play, too many elements out of his control. He would be moving from place to place, room to room, with different people watching him everywhere he went. No, it was far better to play it safe. And it was best to do it on the journey there; if something went wrong, he could try again on the way back.

An hour or so into the trip, Erik's mind had been working overtime, rehearsing everything in his head again and again, making sure he had considered every eventuality. Even so, his heart was racing. There was always something that could go wrong. The handcuffs would be hard enough to get out from, but when he'd been seated in the van, they'd not only secured a seatbelt around him, but also a set of leg irons, which would allow him only a foot or so of movement. Walking would be difficult enough; running would be impossible. However, he knew he could still move fast, and he was still convinced that this escape would be possible. After the arraignment, he would likely be moved to another jail, with higher security. This journey was his best chance.

Erik watched the three officers who sat opposite him. _I can take three men. Five's still my record. _He had been on his best behaviour for more than an hour, and he could see that they were starting to lose interest in him, trusting that he wasn't going to cause trouble. _Perfect. Now's the time._

Slowly, he twisted his hands behind his back, not wanting to appear suspicious. The motion of the van as it bounced along the rural road helped to disguise his movements. The nails of his right hand made contact with his left forearm. Fingertips ran along the surface of his skin, pain throbbing through him at the slightest touch. His whole inner arm was a mess of scars and puncture wounds, but he found the right place, the scar slightly raised above the others. Pressing down gently caused excruciating pain, and he gritted his teeth, preparing himself for even worse. _Christine. Do it for Christine…_

Taking a deep breath, he plunged a nail deep into his skin.

He did not cry out, but tears welled up in his eyes, his breath shuddering out from him. Blood began to trickle down his arm, dripped; he felt the back of his shirt being stained crimson. The wound open, he found what he was looking for: a small length of metal wire, two inches long, which he extracted from his flesh.

Erik held it in his hand with great care. Fumbling slightly, his hands wet with blood, he found the handcuff's lock. Lock picking was easy for him, something he'd been practicing for years, and in a short while he felt the cuffs unlocking. Catching the chain before it could fall, he slipped out of the cuffs. That was the painful part over.

The officers were still oblivious. For the last time, he rehearsed his steps in his head. Now he had to work fast, no time to stop and think.

In one swift movement, he unfastened the seatbelt that secured him and launched himself at the officers before they could stop him. Two of them he grabbed and wrestled to the floor, strangling both of them in a headlock. The third took out his gun, but Erik kicked it away. The short chain of the leg irons made a good noose, once he'd knocked him to the ground. He felt the van coming to a halt. A few seconds and all three men were unconscious.

He unlocked the irons on his legs, letting them drop to the floor, along with the handcuffs. The back door of the van would take more effort, but he had to get it unlocked before the other two officers in the front opened it from the outside and cornered him. Using the tiny wire would be futile, and he searched one of the officer's belts until he found the key to unlock it. Hearing a set of footsteps outside, he had an idea, and forced the door open quickly, knocking the officer behind it off of his feet, where he strangled him until he passed out. He didn't want to kill anyone unless he had to, not after promising himself that those days were far behind him.

The officer's gun had been knocked out of his hand, and he grabbed it quickly, scanning his surroundings. He was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees. Erik began to run, tearing his shirt to use as a bandage for his arm, heading away from the road. Soon he'd be out of sight, safe from anyone else who would try to follow him.

"_Erik!_"

He turned. Firouz stood five feet from him, pointing a gun at his head. He saw Firouz's gaze flickering to his bleeding arm for a moment, then back to stare at him. "Hands up."

Erik took the gun from behind his back, countering him, and he watched as Firouz's eyes went wide. He said nothing.

For several seconds, they were locked in a standoff, neither man daring to move. Erik felt strangely calm and for a reason he couldn't fully understand, he began to smile. He was sure that would be the end. If he were to die, surely that was the way to go: losing his life as he tried to return to the woman he loved. He wouldn't kill Firouz: he wasn't that man anymore. Lowering his right arm, he let the gun drop to the ground; letting his head fall back and his eyes close, he prepared himself for death.

The bullet never came. Opening his eyes, he watched as Firouz lowered his own gun. Not a word was spoken by him as he did. Instead, he nodded once, slowly, his eyes never leaving Erik's face.

Erik stared at him, understanding coming to him gradually. Firouz was letting him go. He was setting him free. And with that, Erik turned, and fled into the forest.

* * *

**Okay, guys, read and review! To anyone who's wondering, the Swedish folk stories I've referred to are from a website called World of Tales. If you'd like to read them, just google "World of Tales, Swedish", and it should pop right up. There are 28 stories in total, taken from an old book of fairy tales.**

**Clara D: Oh, thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter, too!**

**MusicalLover17: No problem! Did you like how the story's developed so far?**

**emeraldphan: Thanks! Yeah, I try to research stuff like that. It helps make your story more realistic, but it also helps you with ideas. Plus, I'm always afraid someone will say, "Oh, no, you said X happens, when I **_**think you'll find**_** that it's XYZ." Glad you like Firouz! And thanks for that long review!**

**KittyPimms: Yes, they **_**should**_** be together! Silly Daroga. But Christine will just have to stay strong and remember how much her Erik needs her. Thanks for the review!**

**phantomofthefic: Hmm. This is the second time this has happened. Maybe I should go back and edit that author's note. Anyway, it suffices to say that the 2010 ALW musical that ruined Phantom isn't "The Phantom of the Opera," which I also love. It's "Love Never Dies," which didn't do so well anyway…**

**Phanatic01: Well, thank you, fellow Scot! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.**

**Guest: We are indeed reaching the end. And, as you saw, Erik is indeed too smart for a hospital.**

**Yvonne: Thank you so much! That really means a lot to me. Hope you enjoyed that chapter.**

**xxxxxxxx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys!**

**So, as I said, very near the end now!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please stick around to the end. I have a few things to say…**

**Oh, and if you've never listened to Jeff Wayne's 'War of the Worlds', then I highly recommend it. Especially 'Forever Autumn.'**

**And don't forget, read and review!**

**Jegsy Scarr  
****xxx**

* * *

The news reached Christine and Michael a few hours later. Police officers kept a close watch over the hotel in case Erik tried to get in touch with either of them, but after several days and no sign of him, they suggested that they went home.

Travelling with police escort, Christine looked through the car window at the passing hills and trees. She had mixed feelings about seeing her house again. She couldn't deny that she had missed it, but there was physical pain inside her when she considered how far she'd be moving from her old home with Erik. _And that _is _my home. My real home. _

Michael held her hand as she crossed the threshold of the house, watching as she gazed wide-eyed around the living room as if everything was new to her. "You okay, sweetie?"

"Mm." She moved closer to him, still looking around her. "I don't know."

His heart lurched. "You don't know?"

With a sigh, she told him what he was already thinking. "Everything's changed now, hasn't it?"

"No. No, it hasn't." The words were forced. He so wanted to believe them. "I'm still here. I'll _always _be here for you."

The Daaé household was under constant guard, on all sides, every hour of the day. Christine would study them from her bedroom window, afraid in case Erik really _did_ try to come back for her there, for a while wondering in vain whether he'd even get in touch with her. _He could send me a letter, maybe. Just letting me know that he's safe and that he'll be coming back for me soon. He could send that. Even just a few words. 'Wait for me': that's all he'd have to send. _But two weeks later, and there was still no letter for her.

"I assure you, he won't be sending you a letter." Firouz leant against the kitchen cabinet, one hand stroking his beard, as Christine filled the kettle. "Erik knows that the police are watching the house, and will be watching for quite some time. It would be…unwise to try to contact you now."

"You've spoken to him, then? Told him they're watching us?"

He shook his head. "He does not need me to tell him that. It's simply standard police procedure."

"How long will that take?"

"Hopefully only a few more weeks at most. But it may take him a lot longer than that to contact you."

Christine fetched some mugs from the cupboard. "Just to make sure it's safe?"

"Partly, yes. But any sort of contact will be dangerous. I doubt that he would risk it at all unless he was ready to…well, take you with him."

_Take me away with him. To somewhere we can always be together. _"Firouz?" She bit her lip. "Do you think he'll come back for me? Maybe he doesn't love me anymore."

He smiled. "I highly doubt that. The conversations I've had with him…No, he won't give you up so easily. Erik is a very determined individual. He won't stop until he has you."

Christine nodded, greatly comforted by his words. "I suppose you're right. I mean, after everything he did to escape…" Her tone grew serious. "They don't suspect you, do they?"

"No. I told them he got away from me, which is true. It was a very close call. If I had been even a few seconds delayed in getting to him…"

"Thank you."

"I did what I thought was right. I believed him when he told me he loved you. And I believe you now, when you say you love him too."

"Mm-hm." Christine turned to the doorway abruptly, surveying it for several seconds before continuing. "Sorry, I thought I heard someone coming. I just don't want you to get in trouble. You could lose your job, or…or go to prison…"

"Oh, don't worry about that, Christine. I will be fine, I know that." Christine brought the sugar bowl down from the shelf. "Here, let me…"

"No, that's okay. I'll get it." She had started to almost enjoy completing the chores around her house. It took her mind off of things.

"As you wish. Two sugars, please. No, they don't suspect me. Don't worry at all."

"Mm-hm." She added sugar and coffee grains to Firouz's mug, and milk and chocolate powder to her own. "That's good to know, I guess. I've been doing a lot of worrying recently."

He frowned. "What is it that worries you, Christine?"

"I…Well, _everything_, really. I worry that the police are going to find him, and he'll go to prison forever. Or that he won't be okay without me with him, that he won't be able to cope on his own." She paused. "I worry that my dad isn't going to be okay. Or that _I _won't be okay. I don't know how long it's going to be before I'm back with Erik. It could be…It could be weeks, or months, or…I don't _know_ how long I'm going to have to wait for him." The tears started. "I don't know if I can hold on. Two weeks has been long enough, and my dad isn't coping either. Every time he asks me how I am and how I feel about Erik…I can't lie to him. But when I tell him the truth – that I love Erik and I can't wait for him to come back for me – he's just so hurt."

The kettle had finished boiling. When Firouz went to pour the drinks, she didn't bother to stop him.

"I can't think straight about anything. I need to know when it'll be over. And even then, what's going to happen? With my dad…If I go with Erik, what happens to him? I don't know if he'll be okay on his own. I don't even know if he'll _let _me go with Erik at all…" She took her hot chocolate in both hands, sighing. "Everything's a mess, isn't it? I'm just hoping and praying that it'll all be okay again. Someday. I just have to wait."

And so Christine waited. Three days later, and the police's constant vigil of the house had depleted to just a few daily observations. By the end of August, the case was no longer front page news; no longer were there warnings issued for the public to _stay alert _for a dangerous fugitive. Occasionally in the media, usually on daytime talk shows or as filler material for the tabloids, someone would mention the name of Christine Daaé or Erik Rossignol, but their names and faces were slowly being forgotten, even Erik's, whose face had been displayed in the media so often that it was obviously being used just for shock value. Christine missed seeing it, but she still had her scrapbook, which she looked at whenever she felt alone, which was often. The dye had completely washed out from her hair by then, and it was back to blonde.

By the end of September, the police had stopped appearing at the house completely, except for Firouz who made sure to visit the Daaés whenever he could. Christine hoped that Erik would contact her now that the police no longer watched the house. But nothing came for her. _Things aren't ready yet, _she told herself. _It can't be safe enough for us. Otherwise, he'd have come for me._

Michael began to despair. Christine barely spoke to anyone except for him and Firouz, refusing to see any of her friends, not even Meg. The psychiatrists she spoke to gave advice, but nothing that truly helped her: things would get better with time, they said. She couldn't sleep, with Michael waking almost every night to the sound of his daughter's sobs, and no amount of reassurance or storytelling seemed to be able to make the crying go away. It was hard for Christine to enjoy her father's stories now at all, not knowing what would happen to him when Erik returned. _If Erik comes back…I'm going to have to leave my father behind. What am I supposed to do?_

October ended. Christine had tried to make the most of her time shut up inside the house, getting through at least a dozen Stephen King novels, which didn't scare her as they had before. Michael hoped that this was a sign she had started to move on to other things. In reality, every word she read she imagined being recited by Erik, taking some comfort from the fact that at one point, he had read the same words she had.

November was the worst month. Christine had hoped and prayed that Erik would have come before her birthday at the latest. But her nineteenth birthday came and went. _Maybe he's never coming._

She slept now, out of exhaustion, but her dreams were rarely untroubled. Some were disturbing or violent, and she would have to watch helplessly as Erik was arrested, or even killed. In others, she would be back with him in the house by the lake. The events in those dreams were never very unusual, just the two of them sitting together and talking or singing, with their arms around each other. And then Christine would wake up, and Erik was gone. Those dreams were awful. Occasionally, she'd dream that Erik spoke to her, telling her that he no longer loved her. That was why he was taking so long: he wasn't coming back for her, not ever. Those dreams were the worst of all.

One night, the dream was more vivid than she'd ever experienced before. She dreamed that she heard Erik's voice, calling her to the window. When she looked, there he was, smiling up at her, telling her he was ready to take her away. Christine woke suddenly, unable to tell whether the dream was real or not. Getting up from bed, she had ran to her window and stared out into the darkness and the rain. _I can't see him anywhere, _she'd panicked, leaving her room and hurrying down the stairs, terrified that he had left without her. Out in the street, she'd shouted his name, tears and rainwater streaming down her face, until her father had rushed out, bundling her up in a jacket, and brought her back inside.

"I don't know what to do anymore." Michael sat slumped in his chair, head in his hands. Upstairs, he heard Christine's footsteps as she wandered around her bedroom. "She's getting worse every day. For I while I thought maybe…" He sighed. "But she's getting worse. And I don't know what to do."

Firouz nodded. "Has she spoken to you about it at all?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she says she misses him. She's waiting for him to come back for her. If he does…I don't know what to do."

"Hmm."

He looked up at Firouz. "Do you think he'll try? Coming back to her, I mean."

Firouz paused. "I don't know. Perhaps he will."

"You know him. Or you once did…" The fact had come up over the months since Christine had returned home, although Firouz had spared him the details of Erik's past crimes, only discussing them with Christine, who still refused to believe him. "Do you think it's something he _would_ do?"

"I…" He looked at Michael, trying to gauge how he was feeling. "I won't lie to you. Erik is not the sort of man who gives up easily. I think it's very possible that he would…" He stopped.

Michael gave him a slight smile. "Thanks for being honest. I can't get anything out of the rest of the police. They all keep saying, 'Oh, don't worry, we'll make sure he never comes back. We'll keep him away from her.' And it's all just empty words. He got the better of the police once. How can they say that he won't do it again?"

Firouz nodded, but said nothing. _It's just a matter of time before Erik comes back. When that happens, how is Michael going to react?_ There was no way of knowing if there was a future ahead for Christine and Erik.

The sound of bells came from above their heads, followed by a voice that was muffled and deep, and strangely rhythmic. Firouz gestured upwards. "Is that…"

Michael laughed. "_War of the Worlds_. Forever Autumn." Tiny tears glistened at the corners of his eyes as he mumbled Richard Burton's narration under his breath in time with the track. "Yeah, she's been listening to a lot of music lately. Reading a lot, too. I guess she's got nothing else to do with her time." He hummed along with the tune as he struggled to remember the words. "'_The winter winds will be much colder, now you're not here. Hm-hm-hm, birds fly south across the autumn sky, doo-doo-doo-doo, as if…_um_…one, they disappear. I wish that I was flying with them…_" He sighed, smiling up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess it's not the happiest music ever, but she likes it. It's funny: I don't even know why she'd start listening to stuff like that."

"Stuff like…?"

"_War of the Worlds. _The Moody Blues. You know, that sort of…"

His voice faltered when he saw Firouz's expression. "No…No, that's _his _music…Isn't it?" He covered his face with his hands again, crying. "This is all wrong. She shouldn't be like this. This is all my fault."

"Michael, this is _not _your fault." Firouz gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "You can't blame yourself for what happened to your daughter -"

"No, it's not my fault that she was taken away. I know that's not my fault. But _this_, this _is_ my fault. I'm her _father_. I'm supposed to make her _better_." Raising his head, he listened to the music, wiping tears away with the back of his hand. "I remember when she was a little girl, she fell, and she hit her head, needed stitches. The whole night, they had to keep her there, for checks. It was just after Suzanne died, and I was all on my own, staying with her overnight. And she was crying, telling me, 'Daddy, I don't want to stay here, it's scary and dark.' So I had to come up with stories for her, about all the fairies that lived in the hospital and came out at night when everyone was sleeping…Yeah, it was stupid, I know. But I told her all of these stories about how they'd sing songs together and play games and dance on all of the patients' beds. And she loved them. She went straight to sleep afterwards, and I remember right before she did, she said to me, 'I'm not scared anymore, Daddy. I'm going to sleep and see the fairies.' She woke up the next morning with a big smile, telling me how she'd had tea and cakes with all the fairy princesses. She…She used to have really nice dreams."

Michael closed his eyes, sighing. "But I remember when she was crying, I kept telling myself, 'This is your fault.' I mean, it wasn't my fault she had hurt herself, and it wasn't my fault they had to keep her in…But it was my fault that she was _scared_. I thought, 'You're all she has now. You're her daddy, and you have to _fix _this, or you've failed her. It's a father's _job_ to make his daughter happy again, and you've _failed_.' And I'm failing her now. And I don't know what to do."

Firouz was silent, letting Michael say how he felt. _This must be so difficult for him. And if I were him, I would hate Erik for making Christine wait like this. _But he knew that there was nothing Erik could do to contact her without putting himself at risk. _And if he were caught, that would only hurt her more. He has no choice…_

"I ask her what I can do to help her, and she just tells me that she wants to be with him again. She says she'll be happy again, once they're together, and…I'm scared. I'm scared in case he _does _come back for her. Then what do I do? If I stop her going with him, I'm sure she'll get even worse. And she'll hate me, and there'll be _nothing_ I can do to make her feel better again."

"What if…" Firouz hesitated. _No, I can't ask him that…Can I? I suppose I must. _"What if she _did_ go with him?"

Michael looked at him oddly, and Firouz thought at first he had angered him, but he nodded. "I worry about that. I might not be able to stop her. If he contacted her without me knowing…"

It wasn't exactly what Firouz had meant, but he carried on regardless. "I'm sure Christine would not do that to you. She would not wish to hurt you. If he _does _contact her, she would certainly tell you."

"Hmm."

"But…She seems convinced that being back with Erik would make her happy. What…do you think about that?"

"She's deluded. I mean, it's not her fault, but -"

"But what if she _were_ right?"

Michael glared at him. Firouz had gone too far. "Are you kidding? Is that meant to be a _joke_? Some sort of sick -"

Firouz raised his hands defensively. "No. All that I'm saying is -"

Michael rounded on him. "You said, what if she's right? About her being happy with him…"

"I apologise. I did not mean to anger you; all I meant was perhaps we should listen to what Christine has to say. She is the only one who knows what those weeks with him were like -"

His voice grew louder, and the music stopped upstairs. "You think she could be _happy _with _him_? Are you _insane_?" He backed away, scrutinising him. "Wait, are you…Are you in on this with him?"

"No, I -"

"You're his friend!" Michael began to yell. "You're planning this with him, aren't you?"

"I assure you, I have nothing to do with Erik, or what he may be planning." Firouz, used to being under fire, stayed calm. "I only wish to do what is right for -"

"Oh, you think that _that's _what's right? For her to go back to him?"

Christine appeared at the top of the staircase and descended it with haste. "Dad, _stop_!"

"That is not what I said…"

"That's _exactly_ what you said!"

"Dad, for goodness' sake…" She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away from Firouz and out of the room.

Michael stayed strong, brushing her hand away gently but firmly. "You're on _his_ side, aren't you, Saleem?" He strode to the front door, wrenching it open. "Get out of my house. Get out before I call the police."

"Very well." Firouz gave Christine a reassuring nod as he left. "I'm not on anyone's side in this…"

"Oh, you're not on _my_ side?"

Firouz stopped on the doorstep, turning to look Michael in the eyes. "I think that we're all on the same side, Mr Daaé."

Michael stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We all have the same goal. We all want Christine's happiness." Bowing his head, he left before Michael could stop him, going back to his car and driving away.

Christine watched in silence for a moment, and then looked at her father with a wry smile. "Dad, what did he even say to you?"

"He said…Well, I said that you were convinced that you'd be happy with…with Erik. He told me you were right."

"Really? Dad, what _exactly_ did he say?"

"I said, you were…You were convinced that being with Erik would make you happy, and he said, 'What if she's right?'"

She grinned. "So all he said was, 'what if'? Not that I _was _right, just 'what if'?"

Michael shook his head. "If he comes back here, I'm calling the police."

"He _is _the police."

"Well, then I'm reporting him. To…to the relevant authorities." He sighed, giving her a small smile. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Dad, you should get some rest."

"No, I'm fine…"

"Firouz is your friend. You _know_ that. You're just stressed."

They hugged for a while, as Michael stroked her hair. "I'm just worried about you, Christine. Please, just tell me how to help you. I'll do anything."

"Daddy…You know what I want. And that's _all_ I want."

* * *

The letter arrived at the house early in December. Christine picked it up from the doormat along with a small stack of other mail, idly flicking through them as she took them to the living room. Separating them into piles (important and junk, for her father and for herself) she noticed the handwritten letter addressed to her, which she added to her pile along with a bank statement and an early Christmas card. It was only as she carried the junk mail to the wastepaper basket that she realised something. _That writing…Where have I seen it before? _

Picking up her letter, she tried to remember why it seemed so familiar to her. An image suddenly flashed before her eyes. _Erik's music. That's the handwriting on Erik's music…_

Christine held the letter close to her and ran to her bedroom, her heart racing. Hands trembling, she unsealed the envelope trying not to tear it. She prised free the single, folded sheet of paper, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. _This is it. He's coming back for me…_

Inside, the writing was red, in a hand that was almost childlike yet still strangely elegant, the words spiderlike and slender, like their author:

_My dear Christine,_

_Please forgive me for not contacting you sooner. It hasn't been safe. It's taken this long for me to be sure that the police aren't tracking me, and that the media have all but forgotten me. I only hope that these past months have been easier for you than they have been for me. I've missed you so much, and every day has been difficult. The only thing that's kept me going is knowing we'll be together again soon._

_Everything is ready, Christine, and I can't wait to see you. There's a house I've bought for us where we'll be safe. It's not as grand as our old home, of course, but I think you'll love it nonetheless. The village is small, peaceful and very beautiful: it should be perfect for us, and our children when they come along. There's a little chapel there, too. When you get here, we can start making arrangements with the priest. After that, there's nothing more for us to do, except spend the rest of our lives together. One thing I should probably mention: I don't expect it to be just the two of us._

_Christine, I know you love your father. I know that he needs you, too. I was wrong to take you away from him before, and I don't want to do it again. If you come with me, I don't want you to have to choose between us. When I bought our new home, I bought the house next door, too. I'm hoping that he'll want to come with us. _

_I realise he may need some convincing, after everything I've done. Let me promise both of you: I will do anything and everything I have to, so that I can be with you again, Christine. Whatever it takes, be it rehab, or counselling, or whatever else you want me to go through, I will do it. Whatever limitations your father deems fit to give me, I'm prepared for it all. I just want to be with you again. _

_Get ready. Pack at least enough clothes and essentials for a couple of nights, along with everything else you want to take with you. I'll meet you at eleven p.m. on the 8__th__ December. Come to the park at the edge of town. I'll be waiting for you there._

_I still love you, Christine, more so now than ever. But I know it's been a long time. Much may have changed for you. If you decide not to come with me, I understand. I hope and pray that you'll choose to be mine, but if not, then I wish you a lifetime of happiness._

_I love you, my rose. Please come back to me._

_Erik._

* * *

Michael studied the letter, as Christine watched his expression changing.

"I told you he'd come back for me." Her voice was triumphant.

"Mm-hm." He read the words over again, slowly shaking his head.

"So…we should start packing. He'll be here in less than a week, and we don't have that much time to sort everything out."

"Christine." Putting the letter to one side, Michael pulled her closer, hugging her tight. For the first time in months, she looked happy. It killed him having to tell her, but he had no choice. "Christine, I'm sorry. You know I can't let you go with him."

"What?" She stared at him, her mouth falling open in horror. "But…you'd be coming with us. You wouldn't have to worry about anything…"

"I'm sorry. Christine, you _know _he isn't safe. I can't let you be with him again. He'd hurt you."

"No! No, he wouldn't hurt me! Erik loves me, Dad. He _loves _me. And he _needs _me, Dad."

"Christine…" He took her hands, holding them gently. "You have to think about what's best for you, too. Like I said, it's not safe for you to go back to him."

"Why? He's _changed_. And if you think he needs help, then he promised to get it, right? So it'll all be okay…"

"Christine, he is a _criminal_. He is on the run from the police. I don't care _what _he promises to do. He can't be trusted. I know you don't want to hear any of this, Christine," he said, as she shook her head, "but you have to try to understand. Imagine if you were in my position. Would you want your nineteen-year-old daughter to leave her home to live with the man more than twice her age who'd kidnapped her?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "_Christine_."

"Dad, even if you don't think he's a good man, then can't you at least trust me enough to come with me? And then you can see for yourself. If you're right about him, then you'll see that, and you can just take me home. But if _I'm _right, then you'll realise that, too, and then I can stay. So you don't have anything to lose…"

"You really think I'm going to stand around waiting for him to hurt you?"

She could barely breathe. "Dad, he won't…He won't hurt me…Please, Dad. I love him so much. Just trust me, _please_."

There were tears in his eyes. "Don't do this to me, Christine. You _know _I don't want you to suffer. But I can't let you go with him."

"Even if he's a good man?"

"I'm not taking that risk, Christine. He took you away from your home by force, he held you against your will…I can't just hope that he's _changed_." Michael tried to comfort her. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I can't…I can't let you go."

Her face, moments ago so joyful, crumbled into an expression of anguish. "Dad…" She broke free from his arms, escaping upstairs to the solitude of her room.

* * *

Over the next few days, Christine begged her father again and again to change his mind, but he would not be moved. Christine's safety was his only consideration.

Despite her failed attempts, she didn't give up. She continued to ask him every day, and prepared for Erik's arrival. Her waking hours were spent scouring her belongings to decide what she wanted to take with her, everything else ending up in piles on the floor. When her own suitcase was packed, she began to pack one for her father, just in case he changed his mind. Michael had protested at first, but decided to let her have her way on that matter at least. She pleaded with him not to call the police and tell them about Erik's planned arrival. That took him longer, but in the end, he agreed not to call them unless he had to. Instead, he called Firouz, who he asked to guard the house with him that night, just in case Erik did decide to show up at their home.

After a very long week for both Christine and Michael, that night finally arrived. Firouz came to the house, armed and ready, as the three of them sat down to dinner, Christine hoping that it would be the last meal she had in that house.

All three of them ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Christine had to force the food down, the thought of Erik waiting for her all night deeply troubling to her. Michael was terrified at the thought of whether or not Christine would cope now that she had nothing left to hope for. And Firouz simply prayed wordlessly that everything would work out for the best.

Her plate half-full, Christine had eaten enough, stabbing her fork into the pasta and falling back in her chair. Michael broke the silence. "You're finished?"

"Mm-hm."

"Try to eat some more."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, you might _be _hungry. Later."

She sighed. "Dad, don't baby me. I'm full."

"Okay, fine. If you get hungry later, I'll heat it up for you."

Christine said nothing. She didn't want to think about later. _How will I cope tonight? Or tomorrow? Or every other day, for the rest of my life? _The food turned over painfully in her stomach. She downed some water, the swallowing difficult. "Please, dad," she said, her voice small and faint. "Please let me go."

"Christine, _no_."

"Dad, if I don't show up there…He'll think I don't love him anymore."

She started to sob, her head dropping to the table-top, as her father watched in despair. _She loves him. She really does love him. _He went to her side, where he knelt down beside her, putting an arm around her. "Christine, please don't cry. We're going to get through this, together. I promise."

"No, Dad…" She was weeping. "What do you want me to do? Just wait here tonight until he leaves without me? Then what? I can't move on, knowing that we still love each other and he's suffering just as much as I am." Her voice was choked by a sudden, shuddering intake of breath, and for several seconds she couldn't speak at all. "Every day, every _hour _I'm going to be wondering where he is, what he's doing without me. I don't even know if he can _cope_ without me."

Firouz's heart sank. He'd seen the state Erik had been in when he'd thought he'd lost Christine. _She's right. If she doesn't go with him, I don't know how he's going to survive._

Michael held her tightly, trying his best to comfort her. "Christine, we have to think about what's best for you, too. It's not right if you suffer so that he can be happy -"

"You think I was _suffering_ with him? Dad, I've never _been_ as happy as I was when I was with him. And now…I can't stay here. This house is like a prison, and I can't breathe, and I…I just want to get out. I…can't breathe." Her stomach lurched again, and she got up, her hand over her mouth as she ran to the bathroom.

"Christine!"

Michael started to follow her, but Firouz gently held him back. "She's just sick, Michael. Give her some time alone."

"Alone…" Michael abandoned the dinner table completely, collapsing heavily onto the sofa. "Oh, God…What am I going to do, Firouz? I've never seen her like this…She's just going to get worse, isn't she?"

"Michael, I don't know. There must be something we can do for her."

"Like what? I've ran out of ideas. And now, I'm just…so scared. I am. I'm scared, Firouz."

Firouz sat beside him, taking both of his hands in his. "No, it will be all right, my friend. I'm here for both of you, and I'll help in any way I can -"

"It's not all right. It won't be ever again, like she said." Shuddering, he inhaled deeply to steady himself. "Her dreams are getting darker every night. She's talking less and less. What's next? Will she stop talking altogether? Will she stop _eating_? What if she ends up suicidal?" he whispered, tears starting. "I have to do something to help her, and quickly. And I don't know…I just don't know…"

"Michael, don't worry…"

"Things are just getting worse and worse, and…I think…I think she's going to die."

Silence fell. The words hung in the air, stone-cold and frightening. They echoed in Michael's head as he sat petrified, the fear he'd held secretly for months finally spoken aloud. He forced himself to speak at last. "It's true, isn't it? She's not going to get better."

Firouz knew what he had to say to him. There was nothing to lose now. "Michael, you have to let her see him again."

He didn't answer him. He sat quietly with his arms wrapped around himself, hiding his face, until Christine came downstairs again. Her eyes were red and puffy, her voice hoarse. "Hey. What's going on?"

Michael looked up, his expression tired. "Do you really love him, Christine?"

She blinked. "Of course I do."

"If I don't let you go with him…what would you do? Would you run away? Go by yourself?"

"No, Daddy, of course not." She hugged him. "I love you, too. I couldn't do that to you."

He nodded, relieved. "You know I can't let you go with him. But…" He took a deep breath. "But I _will_ let you say goodbye."

* * *

The drive to the park was only a few minutes in length, but seemed longer. Christine sat in the backseat of Firouz's car, excited at the thought of seeing Erik again. The experience, however, she knew would be bittersweet. She looked out of the window at the night's sky. It was dark enough that she could just make out the stars, tiny pinpricks of light in the distance.

Michael turned his head to check on his daughter, watching as she sat with her face pressed against the glass. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hm. I can't wait to see him again."

_She still sounds so depressed. _He wanted to say something to comfort her, but there really was nothing he could think of to say, and he remained silent until they arrived at the park.

Moonlight fell upon the grass, but could not dispel the darkness completely, everything staying in shadow. The car slowed as they approached, and Christine searched with desperation for Erik, but there appeared to be no one in sight. She panicked. _Am I late? Has he left without me? _Dismayed tears began to form in her eyes.

Then she saw him. He stood, all in black, under the boughs of a tree. At first, she wasn't sure it was him: his face even from a distance seemed so different. But she soon realised that the face she saw was a skin-coloured mask, as she recognised his thin frame and his golden eyes. _It's him! It's really him! _

The car had slowed almost to a halt, and Christine threw open the door, rushing out into the cold night air ignoring her father's protests. "_Erik!_" Her feet barely touched the ground as she ran, all of her worries and fears forgotten. He turned in her direction, and she saw his eyes creasing as he smiled. "Oh, Erik!"

Christine reached him, colliding with him so hard that she almost knocked him off of his feet. "Erik…My angel…"

"Oh, Christine…" Erik held her tightly, one hand running itself through her short blonde hair. "You're here. You're really here…"

"Mm-hm." She was crying, but her face glowed with joy. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. I'm just so glad you're here with me…"

Her hands slipped up to his face, and she pulled off his mask to kiss him. Everything about him – the softness of his lips, his scent, his cool skin – was just as she remembered. Erik kissed her back, his heart soaring. _She's come back to me! My Christine…And now we can be together. Forever._

"Christine?" By now, Michael and Firouz were several feet from them, and Michael looked on in disgust. _How can she kiss him? _He had seen photographs of Erik, and Christine had of course told him about the extent of what had happened between the two of them. But seeing it for real was different. He moved forward to separate them, but stopped. They had ended the kiss on their own, with Erik holding Christine close to him, her head resting on his chest. _She's smiling. She looks so…happy with him. _

Firouz could sense Michael's discomfort. "He won't hurt her," he said. "Don't worry."

"But he was _kissing _her. How could she stand to…" He stepped back, observing Erik from a distance as he held her. His hand still supported her head, as she gazed lovingly up at his face.

Erik took Christine's hand, gently stroking her fingers. "I love you so much, Christine."

"I love you, too. I…I'm sorry about the ring. I didn't mean to lose it…"

"Oh, no, that doesn't matter." He grinned, kissing her forehead. _I'll soon fix that, anyway._ "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

She laughed. "That _really _doesn't matter!"

"Oh, it does. It's unforgivable. Wait…" He reached into a coat pocket, pulling out a little white box, which he gave to her. "Happy birthday."

Opening the box, she found a necklace: silver, with a red jewel pendant that was suspended from the chain like a drop of blood. "Oh, Erik, I love it!"

Erik smiled. "Well, I'm very glad. Here, let me…"

He fastened the chain around her neck, as Christine revelled in the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. "Thank you, Erik. It's perfect."

"You're most welcome." He checked his watch. "We should get going soon. You're ready to come with me? I think you're going to love our house, Christine. It's beautiful."

Christine's face turned pale and she began to tremble. Now she remembered. "Erik…Erik, I'm sorry."

A chill ran through him. _No…Please, no. Anything but this… _"You…You're not coming with me?" His voice was weak.

"I want to, Erik. More than anything. But…my dad, he…"

Erik looked up, and his eyes suddenly met Michael's. "He doesn't want you to come with me?"

"I just…I came to say goodbye."

He held her, his heart breaking. "Christine…"

"I'm so sorry, Erik."

"No, no, it's not your fault…I understand."

"I wish I could go with you. Really, I do, but…I have to respect what he wants. I couldn't leave him." She clung to Erik. "But I…I don't want to leave you, either."

"Christine…" _This is the end, isn't it? What am I supposed to do without her? _He imagined going back to the new house he had bought for them, living there alone, surrounded by empty bedrooms and the beautiful scenery he'd planned to bring up their children in. _And the morphine. I won't be able to stay clean without her. _He had relapsed several times in the past months, sometimes seriously, but it had been a whole two months since the last incident, the thought of being with Christine again giving him the strength he needed.

Drawing on all of his remaining courage, he kissed her lips, certain it would be for the last time. "Christine, I know that you want to come with me…"

"I do. I really do, and it hurts so much…"

"Shhh. It's okay. You're going to be fine, Christine."

Christine felt sick. _That's what my dad said. How can I be fine without Erik?_

He took her face in his hands, and she saw the tears begin to fall from his eyes. "You are so beautiful. And you are going to be so happy someday. There…there are other men in the world…"

She was horrified. "No! Erik, I don't _want _another man. I want _you_. I only want you."

"You say that now, but…you're still young. You have your whole life ahead of you."

_A life without Erik… _"Why are you saying all this? Are you trying to hurt me? You know that I love _you_…"

"I do. But I only want what's best for you." The urge to hold her again was almost overwhelming, but he forced himself to resist. "If we can't be together, then don't throw your happiness away."

"But I…I can't…"

"I know that right now you can't imagine being with someone else. But give it time. There's a whole world out there for you, and you have so much to live for." But for _him_, there was nothing. "One day, you'll move on." But he knew _he_ never would. "You'll be ready to open your heart to someone else, someone who can love you and respect you, give you everything I never could." And _he_ would be alone. "But just…think of me fondly, from time to time. Remember that I only want you to be happy. And…You gave me your heart. But I give it back to you now. Take care of it, keep it safe, until you're ready to give it away again. But don't do it lightly. Only for the man who's truly worthy of it."

Now Erik embraced her, letting her head rest against his chest as she cried. He looked up to where Michael and Firouz stood, wondering how they would react. Firouz looked strangely moved. And to his surprise, Michael gave him a small smile.

Erik turned back to Christine. "I'm going to miss you so much. But don't be afraid. And always remember that I love you."

Christine closed her eyes, listening to Erik's heartbeat. _He's right. I know he's right. But it hurts so much…_

"Christine?"

She opened her eyes at the sound of her father's voice.

"It's getting late, Christine."

A rush of fear flooded through her. "No! No, Dad, please…let me stay. Just a little longer."

Erik made himself let her go. _The longer we wait, the harder this is going to be. _"Christine, it's okay. It's late, and it's cold. But just remember everything I told you."

"Erik!" She grabbed him again, wrapping her arms around him in a vice-like grip, never wanting to leave him.

"Shhh. Listen to me…" He knelt in the grass, looking up at her. "I know this isn't easy. God knows my heart is breaking…But we have to do this. We have to say goodbye."

"No…No, I…" _I have to leave him? _She knelt beside him, kissing his forehead and resting her face against his. "I can't believe it has to end like this…Everything we've done together…everything we've shared…"

His tears fell onto her cheek, and they both remembered. _Our first kiss…_

And so they kissed again, letting their tears unite. They trickled down, flowing between their lips. Cold lips against warm, they could hardly breathe, afraid that when they did have to pull away, it would all be over, this time forever.

The kiss ended, finally. Erik stood, taking Christine's hand and helping her to her feet. He could still taste her tears, warm there on his lips. With great purpose, his tongue swept them away, swallowing them. They would be a part of him, forever. He could always have a part of her with him. "I love you Christine. Thank you for sharing your life with me, even if just…for a little while."

She drew his face close to hers, whispering in his ear. "I love you, too. Never forget that, Erik. Never forget…that you are _so_ loved."

Christine let him go as her father wrapped an arm around her. _My world's just fallen apart. _She hugged Michael tightly as he stood there beside Erik.

Erik dried his eyes, trying to compose himself as best he could. "I love her so much. Please keep her safe."

Michael nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Hmm?"

"The house. Or…houses, where are they?"

Erik stared. "About a thousand miles from here. A two-day journey."

"All right. Give me the address. And your phone number."

Christine looked up, completely confused as Erik dutifully wrote the details onto a scrap of paper.

He handed it to Michael, who read it for a moment. Going through his pocket, he pulled out his keys, and handed them along with the note to Firouz. "Go back to the house, get the cases. You packed things for me, right, Christine?"

Her eyes widened. "Dad? You're…"

"I promised I'd do whatever it took to make you happy."

"You're changing your mind?"

Michael hesitated. "I…If you want to go with him…"

A smile split her face. "Oh, Dad…" She kissed his cheek, overcome by happiness. "Thank you, Daddy! Thank you!"

He grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I'll give him a chance. But if he blows it, that's it."

_I'm going to be with Erik again! And this time…this time everything's perfect. _She threw her arms around Erik's thin frame, covering him in kisses. "Oh, Erik! My Erik…"

"Christine…" His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest. "My darling…I can't believe it. I…I get to spend the rest of my life with you…"

"Mm-hm…" She snuggled up against him. "And now…We can get married?"

Michael grimaced, but said nothing.

Erik smiled. "You still want to be my wife?"

"Now more than ever."

"All right. In that case…" He went back into his coat pocket, getting another box, this one black and even smaller than the previous. About to hand it over to her, he paused, grinning. "Close your eyes." Christine obeyed. "Hold out your hand." She did so.

She felt Erik slide a ring upon her finger, the cool metal like a kiss, fitting perfectly. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and squealed with delight.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you back your old one," Erik apologised. "I did think about going back to look for it, but the house has been seized, and everything inside it. My car, too. I doubt I'll ever see that again…But what do you think? Will this one do?"

"It's _perfect_, Erik." The new ring was almost identical to the old one: a diamond, rubies set into the band, a pearl carved into a rose, a tiny gold nightingale…But there was one difference. The last pearl had been white. This one was blood-red.

"You really like it?"

"Mm-hm. It's beautiful. Why red this time?"

He shrugged. "I thought it should be something different. The last time I gave you a ring…the circumstances were quite different. This is a whole new chapter of our lives together, so I thought…maybe a clean break with the past. We move on."

They stood in the shadow of the tree, embracing each other, until Firouz returned with the suitcases. Christine spoke to him as her father and Erik packed the cases away. "Thanks for everything, Mr Saleem."

"Oh, no, it's nothing."

She shook her head. "Thank you for giving Erik a second chance."

He smiled. "I believe I've given him more than _two_ chances over the years. But I _am_ glad. You'll take care of him?"

"Of course. I know he needs me. And once we're married, I can really start loving him properly."

Firouz coughed, looking away, Christine blushing as she realised what she'd said. _It's true, though. So much love I still have to give Erik. _She was very much looking forward to it all.

"But…" Firouz sighed. "Please be careful, Christine. I know you don't believe what I've told you…But be careful. Erik's past is dark, extremely so. You should be aware of that."

She tried to ignore his words, as usual. But she had heard them so many times that some of them were beginning to stick with her. _One day, I'll ask him, _she decided.

Erik packed the last of the suitcases into the car, as Michael tried to find room for his violin, which didn't quite fit. "I'm sorry," Erik said. "I don't like this car either. But it's less conspicuous than a Rolls Royce."

"Hmm. Maybe I should leave it behind."

"No, of course not. We can put it in the backseat instead."

The cases packed, Erik turned to fetch Christine, but Michael pulled him back. "Let's be clear on this, Erik. I don't like you. I don't trust you." He sighed. "But I love _her_. She's the only one who matters. We do what's best for her."

"Agreed." Erik held out his hand to Michael, who didn't take it. Erik frowned. "You don't like me, I understand. But let's try to be civil to each other at least. For her sake."

Michael opened his mouth, about to protest, but stopped. Slowly, he shook Erik's hand, his eyes never leaving his. "For her sake," he agreed.

Erik smiled, going to Christine's side. "We're ready, sweetheart. Are you coming?"

She hugged him again, taking his hand as he led her to the car. Michael watched them as they got inside, the doors closing behind them. Panic began to well up inside him, and his breathing started getting laboured. "Oh, God…I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe it…"

Firouz patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

"I…I'll call you, okay? Once we get there…"

"Of course. Call me day or night if there's a problem. I'll sort things out here."

"Thank you." He gave Firouz a hug. "Thank you for everything."

With that, Michael got into Erik's car, sitting in the backseat with his violin. The fear was still there, doubts rushing through his head, and he suddenly thought about changing his mind. But then he saw Christine's face, the happiest he'd seen her in months. _Actually…I don't think I've _ever_ seen her as happy… _And something about her face seemed strikingly familiar, her smile suddenly conjuring up a memory from years before. _Suzanne. She looks just like her. _Leaning forward, he kissed Christine's cheek. _I think…I think I'm doing the right thing. If she were here…I wonder if she'd have let her go… _It was impossible for him to know for sure, but somewhere inside he felt that his wife was looking down on him, with the smile she'd always had, the one that could light up even the darkest nights. _Just a feeling…_

Christine watched from the window, waving goodbye to Firouz, as the car drove away from him, taking the three of them into their new lives.

* * *

**So…Here's what I had to say…As I've said already, we're near the end. In fact, when I wrote chapter 17, I thought chapter 18 would be the last. I knew I had a lot still to say, and I didn't fancy having two more chapters (nineteen is a weird number), so this was going to be a sort of double-length chapter, finishing the story off.**

**But, the story kind of got away from me! I kept writing and writing and realised it was going to be a **_**lot**_** longer than double length, and that twenty **_**is**_** a good number. So, yeah! **_**Two**_** more chapters to go!**

**So that being said,_ please leave a review!_ I love reading them, and I'm going to miss them when this is all over!**

**emeraldphan: See, I like writing long chapters now! Took me a while to get used to it, but the more you write, the more you love to write! Glad you liked the chapter! And hope you're enjoying how things are going (so far).**

**Everyonedeserveslove: Yay! He does! Thanks for the review!**

**grandma paula: Thanks for both of your reviews! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!**

**MaggieB13: Oh, that sounds serious! Hopefully this chapter got to you in time…**

**xxxxx**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey guys! New chapter for you! Hope you enjoy!**

**xxx**

* * *

To say that Michael was nervous about the arrangement would be an understatement. For the first few days, he could barely leave Christine alone with Erik, terrified that he would harm her. Even exiting the room for five minutes at a time meant he'd return deeply anxious, only to find that the two had done little more than steal a kiss together. _Of course. _In his head, he knew he was being irrational. _She spent more than a month alone with him, and he didn't hurt her. He's certainly not going to hurt her if I'm here…_ But he knew it would take a lot longer for him to learn to trust Erik. _If I ever do… _More than anything, he wanted just to take Christine back home, but he couldn't deny how happy she was with Erik.

Days turned into weeks, and soon it was almost Christmas. "Christine?"

"Dad?" She looked up from her book, and he felt relieved yet again by how content she looked, the colour back in her face, the dark shadows vanquished from beneath her eyes.

"I was going to go shopping, get some things."

"Oh, 'things'. Exciting! Would those things include a certain bottle of perfume, by any chance?"

"Certainly not, sweetie. Santa's getting you that, remember?"

"Of, of course." She grinned. "Well, don't let Santa forget Erik's present, either. When are you going for that?"

Michael supressed a groan at the thought of having to buy something for Erik. _That'll be fun…_ "Well, _now_, I guess."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Well, who's going with you if you're getting both of our presents?" Her eyes widened. "Wait…You're letting me stay here with Erik?"

"I…thought about it. I take it you'd be okay with that? I'll take my phone just in case, but -"

She hugged him. "Thanks, Dad! You won't regret it, I promise."

"Mm-hm. I'll be back in an hour or so, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

Her father gone, she scaled the staircase, calling Erik's name, finding him eventually in his own room.

"Christine? Is something wrong?"

"No, just…" She shrugged, smiling. "My dad…left to go shopping."

He blinked. "Does he know I'm here?"

"Of course."

"Wow."

"I know!" She hugged Erik, squishing him tight. "I guess he finally trusts us…"

"To be fair, I think he's always trusted _you_."

She laughed, twisting her engagement ring on her finger. "So…"

"So…?"

"So…what should we do?"

"Well…I think we should kiss a lot, before he changes his mind and comes back with a gun."

And so they kissed, arms wrapped around each other, letting actions express what words never could. For so long Christine had been longing to spend time alone with Erik again, and enjoyed holding him and kissing him passionately as she'd done before. Erik lifted her off of her feet a little, moving her to sit down on his bed. _Although…_Christine felt a wave of emotion go through her. _It's going to be _our _bed one day. _She couldn't believe how soon she'd be married to him, how soon that part of her life would begin. _That'll be wonderful. My Erik… _

But a thought popped into her head, one which before she'd been able to dismiss, not being able to question it. Now, she had the chance to, and thinking about it she wanted nothing more than just to ignore the question as before. _I can't, though. I _have_ to ask him. Then I can stop worrying about nothing._

Christine broke away from Erik, immediately regretting doing so, wanting just to kiss him again.

Erik stared at her, concerned. "Christine? Are you all right?"

"Mm-hm. I just…" She trailed off.

He misinterpreted her. "Christine, if you don't want to kiss me, then I…"

Before he could finish his sentence, she punctuated it with a kiss on his forehead. "Silly Erik…" She sighed. "But I have to ask you something. I feel stupid asking you at all, but I… have to. It's been bothering me, I guess."

He put his arm around her, stroking her face. "It's okay, Christine. You know you can ask me anything."

"I know, but this is…This is different." She took a deep breath. "Erik…When I talked to Firouz before, he…he told me you'd…done things, in your past. And the papers, too, they…they said you…"

Erik felt his blood freeze to ice, his arms instinctively pulling Christine closer, so as not to let her leave.

She closed her eyes. "Erik, they said you'd…killed people." The words sounded so ridiculous when they left her mouth that she almost laughed. When she carried on speaking, her voice was sing-song, light as air. "I know…it doesn't make any sense! And I'm sorry I'm even asking you, but it's just…the police said it." _The police said it, Christine. At least try to take this seriously. I'm sure he's upset about how they all spoke about him in the papers, so stop smiling. _Taking Erik's face gently in her hands, she looked him in the eyes. "Erik, I trust you. You know that. If you say it's not true, I'll believe you. And I won't mention it again, I promise. So…Erik, have you? Killed people?"

He stared at her, barely able to breathe. "No," he whispered, his eyes lowering.

Christine relaxed completely, smiling again. "I knew it. I _knew_ it wasn't true, and I…I'm sorry I even asked. Of course you wouldn't…" She resumed kissing him, everything wonderful again.

Erik closed his eyes, wanting to enjoy being with Christine again, but in the darkness of his mind, his thoughts were troubled. The rational part of his brain wanted desperately to shut off, and let his feelings and emotions take over so he could enjoy that embrace. But the Voice was there, too, and it wouldn't let him be at peace. Perhaps it was angry at him for ignoring it for so long, as his love for Christine fought against his addiction; perhaps it hated the fact that Erik was determined to seek professional help, and be rid of the Voice forever. Whatever the reason, it was back. As he kissed Christine, it taunted him, again and again, a single word echoed a thousand times. _Liar…Liar…Liar…_

He pulled away from her, shaking, and began to sob, his face hidden in his skeletal hands. "I'm sorry, Christine. I don't know why I did that. I promised myself I'd tell you the truth, and…I'm sorry."

Christine stared. "The truth…about what?"

"Christine…you have to understand, I…I thought…" He shook his head. "Oh, I don't know what I thought…I was so confused…" The words were nonsensical, as he tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. Another deep breath, to get the words out straight. "Promise me…Christine, promise me you'll still love me. No matter what."

Her breath caught in her throat. "My God…It's true? You've _killed_ people?"

"I…Yes, but…" Christine pushed him away, getting to her feet as she tried to take flight and leave the room. He grabbed her arm. "No, please stay with me! Christine, _please_, you don't know…please, let me explain…"

"Explain what? You've killed people…You're a…" She couldn't get the word out. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to call her Erik a murderer.

The look on her face was horrifying to him, as Erik imagined what thoughts could be running through her head. "No…no…"

"I…I don't…"

"No, don't be afraid." He pulled her back as she tried to get away again. She wouldn't sit down, wouldn't stay still, and he instead tried to lay her down on the bed, picking her up in his arms and resting her head down on the pillow. She called out for help instinctively, despite knowing the house was empty. He tried again to reassure her. "No! Stay here with me. It's all right. Please let me explain. Christine, please, let me explain it."

She shook her head in disbelief. "It's true…it's actually true…"

"No…Listen to me. I won't hurt you. I _love_ you, let me…Let me explain."

Christine whimpered in anguish. Her face was soaked with tears, her nose was running, and she barely noticed. Erik took her in his arms, and she didn't resist him, her head falling against the linen of his shirt. She lay still against his chest. Her mind tried to reconcile the fact that she loved Erik, and yet, he had killed. _He _is_ a murderer; what else can you call someone who's killed people? _Her heart ached at the fact. And yet, she couldn't lie to herself and say that she no longer loved him. _I still want to be with him. I still want to be his…Am I evil for that? But he's still Erik. He's still a loving, gentle man…isn't he? _She looked at Erik, almost fearing that there would be a sadistic grin twisted across his face, or a sign in his eyes that he wanted to kill _her_. But, of course, there was nothing like that. The devotion in Erik's eyes was still there, the smile on his tear-stained face just as sweet as she remembered.

His hands clutched desperately at her. "I'm so sorry. I…I never meant…I never meant to kill anyone. I never wanted to…" He sighed. "I'm so sorry…"

His voice trembling, Erik prepared himself to tell her everything, as he had hoped he'd never have to.

"I never wanted to kill anyone, Christine. It's just…something that happened. And I never _dreamed_ my life would end up the way it has…" Memories of simpler times began to drift by in his mind. "When I was growing up, we didn't have a lot of money, my mother and I. We lived in the countryside, in a little house, just the two of us, with her earning so little for the work she did. So when I was a boy, I would set little traps, snares and things, for rabbits and suchlike, outside in our garden. We weren't very rich at the best of times, like I said, but at the worst, it could be the only way to put food on the table. We could have them to eat, and the fur could be sold, and…I didn't _enjoy_ killing them, at least, not at first. It was just something I knew I had to do, so it got easier. And over time, I…I got good at catching them. Early on, I realised that if I was very still, I could lie and wait for them to come to me, and then I could just…catch them. I could throw a lasso around them, pull it tight. It was easier than setting the traps, so I practiced until my aim was perfect. It was a game, born out of necessity. Just a game, that's all it was. That's…how I learned to kill, I suppose. I _never_ thought I'd have to kill humans, though.

"I grew up, I studied at school, I tried to plan for the future…I knew I wanted to get out of there, Christine, out of that town. It was beautiful there, but that's why I suffered so much. Someone like me…I could never belong, not when I was so hated there." Remembering was painful. _But it's over now. I have a new home. It's even more beautiful here, and this time, it's safe. I'm with Christine. _"I got into fights a lot. They never tired of telling me that I wasn't welcome in their town, and that they were going to get rid of me as soon as they had the chance.

"And then one day…" Erik hesitated, fighting back tears. Christine was still very pale, and he hoped that she would soon understand everything. "One day, I was walking home after school. It was winter, I remember, so it was cold and all I wanted was to get inside. But then as I walked, I heard voices behind me, and suddenly there were men grouping all around me, seven or eight of them at least. They cornered me, hurled abuse, spat at me…I was so scared, Christine," he said. The images in his head made him cringe, and he stroked Christine's hair to comfort himself. "I knew I couldn't fight them all, but I tried. I was used to fights, like I said, but this was like nothing else. They didn't stop at insults and bruises. With every blow, they'd strike me harder. And then one of them…had a knife. And he put it to my throat, told me to stay still, not to fight them, or he'd kill me. After that, they just took turns, hurting me. I felt them cut me, heard bones snapping…It went on for a while. I won't tell you everything they did to me, Christine: I don't like to think about it. I prefer to forget." Stopping, he breathed deeply several times to calm himself before he went on. "Anyway, at some point I must have passed out. I woke up and it was dark, and they were all gone. Everything hurt. I could barely open my eyes, they were so swollen. For a while, I didn't even try to see if I could stand up. I didn't _want_ to. My clothes were torn, all of my belongings were gone…My arm was broken in two places. Three fingers were broken…I'm not sure, but I think someone stamped on them…Dozens of slashes and stab wounds. I needed a lot of stiches. I forget how many." He sighed. "You could say I was lucky, I suppose. If there'd been any more wounds, or if they were any deeper…I'd probably have bled to death."

Christine stared, too shocked to cry. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen years old." He saw her face beginning to crumple, preparing for tears, and he reassured her quickly. "No, no, don't cry. I'm fine now, see? I got better. But…it took me a long time before I was strong again, and even longer before I could venture outside. I was so determined to never let it happen again, to never be…_humiliated _like that again. So for years, I built up my strength, learned to defend myself…And I carried a rope with me, always, just in case I ever had to use it." Brushing Christine's face dry of tears, he hoped she would be prepared for what he told her next.

"A few years later I left school, and I left my home, my town…I wasn't welcome there, or safe, and I hoped that I would find somewhere with better prospects. I'd always wanted to travel the world, see it, do great things, you know? Find myself, make my fortune." Erik sneered. "I know it was naïve now, but it's what I wanted to do. But the world wasn't kind to me. I ended up desperate, out on the streets, no home and no job. Have you any idea what that's like, living in a strange country and not having anywhere to go? I didn't know what to do…No, the world was not as I'd hoped, Christine. It was dark, and it was dangerous…and it was cruel beyond belief. And I had so wanted to find a place where I could belong, somewhere out there…but there was nowhere for me.

"One night, I was attacked again, but this time I was prepared. The lasso flew around one of their necks, and the others scattered. I…I'll be honest with you, Christine…I think I would have killed him. I was so angry, and…" He sighed. "But I was being watched, though I didn't know it until then. So when they appeared, I left him alive. Unconscious, but alive. They came to me, in a group. They applauded me for my skills, said they needed me. If I agreed to work for them, they'd pay me well. They had connections, they said, and they'd get me any job I wanted, somewhere to live…If I did as they asked. There was someone they wanted…taken out."

'_Taken out'? _Christine's breath came more quickly. "And you…you did it?"

Erik was quiet for a long time. "They convinced me," he said finally. "The man they wanted dead was not a good man. I knew of him. Actually, I…I'd tried to get a job from him a few weeks before."

"_That's _why you killed him? Because he wouldn't give you a _job_?"

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through the room. "Not even a job; he didn't give me a _chance, _once he'd seen my face! But no, that's not why I did it."

"Why, then? How could you do it?" Killing someone was bad enough, but the thought that Erik had been paid to kill them made her feel even sicker.

"Like I said, he was an evil man. I only knew half of the things he'd done, but they soon filled me in on the rest. The more I heard, the more I hated him. He had more money than he could ever spend, practically throwing it away as he pleased, while I was barely getting enough to eat. He had five houses, at _least_ ten cars, the finest most expensive clothes, while I was sleeping in alleyways, stumbling around in rags. He had a wife and mistresses and orgies at his whim, too, while all I had ever desired was the love of _one_ woman." Erik's heart fluttered as he realised he now had Christine. _Sweet girl. She will have my utter devotion. _"He'd also abused hundreds of employees by treating them like slaves, but I cared less about that, if I'm honest. To me, he was everything I loathed. Why _should_ he have everything, while I had nothing? He didn't deserve his life. And that was enough to finally convince me, I think.

"I remember that night. He was at his home – one of his homes, anyway. A party was going on inside. Wine, women and song, that sort of party. In the darkness, I waited outside for it to end, listening to the music and letting it tend the flames of my wrath. After everyone else left, I made my move. I found him passed out in the living room…it was almost too easy. The noose was around his neck automatically. Pulling it tight was just…like killing an animal. In him, I saw the face of the man who'd held the knife to my throat. In him…I enacted my revenge."

Christine didn't know how to reply to that. _What he did…It's awful, but I can almost…understand it? _She squeezed her eyes tight, shaking her head fiercely to get rid of the thought. _No. I can understand he was angry. I _can't _understand how he could kill someone. _But there was sorrow in his voice, and she allowed herself to trust him that once he'd told her everything it would make sense. She had to at least _try _to believe that would be true, because the alternative was too awful to consider. And besides…she still loved him.

Erik continued, his words slow and becoming increasingly heavy with grief, as if they carried the burden of the world. "I felt so…I don't know how to describe it…like I wasn't the same person anymore. I'd changed, and I couldn't go back to how I was before. I went home, and slept pretty soon after that. Whether it was tiredness or something else, I didn't think about what I'd done, not until morning. And when I woke…The sun was shining, and everything seemed so perfect. Like nothing had happened, nothing was wrong…And the most awful thing was…was how I felt about it all, Christine."

Christine nodded, listening along. She could hear how broken his voice sounded.

"I…I _wish _I could tell you that I hated what I'd done. That from the moment I woke, I realised how _wrong_ my actions were and I knew that I had to make amends…But that's not how I felt. The truth is, I felt exactly the same as I'd done the night before, while I'd been killing him! In the clear light of morning everything came back to me, and I felt a new wave of exhilaration. Of all the drugs I'd tried in my life – and that's a lot, believe me, Christine – this was something else entirely. I felt so alive, so in control and powerful, and…it just felt _good_. I know that's _horrible_, Christine, but that's how I was that morning. No regrets, no remorse, _nothing_. That's the thing about evil, I've found. While it's happening, while you're doing evil things, it actually feels _right_. That lasted for days. By the end of the week, or so, the feeling had subsided. And that's when everything came crashing down around me…"

He stopped, his body racked with misery as he cried. Christine felt within her an urge to hold him, comfort him, and was at war with herself about whether or not she should. Eventually, her heart defeated her head, and she held him in her arms, letting him relax into her.

"Suddenly…I realised what I'd done. And it was so _terrible_. I had _killed _someone, Christine. Someone who, evil as he was, did not deserve death. No matter how much I tried to justify my actions by telling myself the world was better off without him…even if that _was _true, that wasn't for me to decide." Opening up to Christine about how he felt made him anxious, and he tried to calm himself by holding her even closer. He felt her heart beating. "I realised all of that as the days went by, and it just got worse. And the Voi-" He paused, debating over how much to tell her. "The Voice in my head tormented me, over and over again. It's never been Erik's friend, you know. It always plagues him. I was a murderer, I had fallen so far that there was no hope for me, I should die…That's what it told me, so many times. There was no way for me to change what I had become. My future was gone, my dreams were gone…Do you know what I spent the money they gave me on? I spent it on drugs, opiates…I wanted to try to forget. And it worked, as long as I was high! I didn't remember _anything _then!" Erik shrugged, looking into Christine's eyes. "It doesn't work like that forever, you know. The longer you take it, the less effect it has on you. You have to take more and more to get the same result. Eventually, you _can't _take any more. Morphine now…it doesn't even make me forget, really. Just calms me down. Usually, that's enough, if I have something else to take my mind off things…" For a while, he was lost in his thoughts, before he remembered again. _I have Christine now. I don't need the drugs. _"But anyway, I was like that for days. Every time the drugs wore off, I'd have to smoke some more…Oh, I didn't say, did I?" he said, seeing Christine's face blanching. "I used to smoke it. Opium, I mean. Or morphine via pills…Even _I_ didn't like the thought of injecting it. I always promised myself I never would. It's…funny how things change…

"They came back to me, the same men. They said they were impressed by my work. If I wanted, they said, they'd give me another job, some other man they wanted killed. I told them…I wish I could say I'd told them 'no'…But I told them I'd think about it. And I did. I really didn't know what to do, Christine. I knew it was wrong, I realised that…" He closed his eyes, the tears returning. "_Please_ try to understand. I told myself repeatedly that I wasn't a murderer and I wouldn't ever kill again. But the Voice…kept reminding me what I'd done. What was the point in pretending, it said. I was a killer and I always would be. Even if I wanted to change, I couldn't put the past behind me and move on. The life I wanted, the family, a wife and children? That was all _gone_. What woman could ever love me now?" Timidly, he looked at Christine, hoping with all of his being that she would still be able to. "That's what it told me and…I believed it. And knowing that I couldn't ever go back, I was in such an awful place. There was no hope for my future, so either I wallowed in misery for the rest of my life because of what I'd done…or I justified it. What I'd done…he was an evil man. It was easier for me in the long-term to make excuses for killing him. He _was _an evil man, the world was better off without him, therefore what I was doing was right. It was almost noble…If I convinced myself of that, then I could carry on. And to believe that lie, I had to _live _it.

"I took the job. The one after it…Within a few years, I'd killed dozens of people. I don't even remember half of what happened in those years, Christine. I got other jobs, designing buildings, writing music, things I'd always wanted to do…But the killing was always part of my life. If I ever tried to withdraw from it, the agony of my mind would come back, until I killed again, and I could drift away, inebriated. I couldn't get away from what my life had become, no matter where I went in the world. There were always people who…who needed killing. And then one day, I suppose, someone was ordered to kill _me_."

"Kill _you_?" On impulse, she threw her arms around Erik and held him, as though someone had just arrived to take him away. _I won't let anyone hurt him…_

"Shhh. Don't worry. I'm safe now. I found out about the plot to kill me in time, and I escaped."

She nodded, calming down. "How did you find out?"

He grinned. "Actually…Firouz tipped me off about it."

"He…he tipped you off? I don't understand: how did _he _know?"

"Firouz and I have known each other for a long time. I think he liked my architectural style…" He smiled. "But a friendship was never going to work out. He was a police officer, I was an assassin…Although, he didn't know that when we first met. Took a couple of years for the authorities to catch up with me. When they finally did, there were people sent out to kill me. Firouz found out in time, and he told me."

"I…I don't get it…The _authorities_ sent people out to kill you?"

"I wasn't following the orders of _criminals_, Christine. Not in the ordinary sense, anyway. No, I was taking out businessmen, public officials, rival politicians… There's corruption in every government, Christine. They're not above killing people. Firouz realised that they were planning to kill me…After he told me, he had to resign, of course, before they found out that he was the one who'd given me the information, or his life would be at risk, too." It occurred to him just how much Firouz had actually done for him. _Even if he did still want me behind bars…he gave me my life. Twice, now. I guess we _are _friends. _He made a mental note to tell him the next time he saw him.

"And after that…I just had to go into hiding. And I…I had no choice except to try to change my life around. Which meant that I couldn't lie to myself anymore." He lowered his head. "Do you know what killing someone does to your heart? It makes it _ache_. The rush you get is short-lived, and then all you're left with is _pain_. It erodes your soul like acid, until you feel like your very humanity is wasting away. So…When I had to admit to myself the damage I'd done, it was almost too much to bear. I didn't think that I could ever be free again. I couldn't undo what had been done, and I hated myself so much. But… for whatever reason, I still had hope that things could get better." His smile returned a little, his eyes faintly glimmering. "I was going to try to fix my life, even if the Voice insisted that I couldn't. So I got a new job, doing what I loved. I built a home for myself…"

"To hide in, right? In case they found you?"

"That's right."

Christine shivered. "How could you stand to live like that, Erik? Weren't you afraid they'd find you? I mean, if someone wanted to kill _me_, I don't know if I could carry on okay…"

Erik nodded. "I understand. But it was hope that kept me going, Christine. That's all it was: that hope that I could be a good man again. I could start over."

She smiled. _He was right. He _has_ changed. _She could feel her admiration for Erik growing stronger, which surprised her after everything she'd heard. "I'm glad. You've changed so much, Erik. I'm proud of you."

He almost blushed. "It wasn't easy, Christine, not always. Hope's a funny thing. Some days, it would be easy to believe in, and other days, I just felt like giving up. I was very close to complete despair, when I met you. You gave me a reason to go on living, so determined I was to be with you, to make you my wife, make you _love_ me… But, no, it wasn't always easy."

They held each other in silence for a while, as Christine attempted to take everything in. _This is so…surreal. I can't believe he's really killed people, and yet…I have to believe it. _Thinking about what Firouz had told her and how she'd ignored him made her feel ashamed, even though she knew in her mind it wasn't her fault. _You _can't _believe those kinds of things about people you love. _Her head hurt. _What am I going to do now? I told myself before that if it was true, I could forgive him. _But that had all been hypothetical. She hadn't taken the ideas seriously.

Now she had to. She was being forced to weigh up everything she knew about Erik, and decide whether or not it had changed things. Immediately, her heart proffered up one fact, pushing it to the front of her mind, as if to be sure it would get preferential treatment over all the others: _You love Erik_. And she couldn't deny that. She loved him very much.

"I miss our old house," she said after some time.

"I know. I'll miss it too." He was still a little shaken at having told Christine about his past, and he tried to put a brave face back on. "Although, I must have been on a very optimistic day when I designed it, now I think about it."

"Optimistic?"

He gave a smile, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, there were…rather a lot of bedrooms in it. Hopefully, we have enough here, too. What do you think, Christine?"

"Huh?"

"Children, Christine."

Her heart felt like it had wings. _Children…_ "Mm-hm. This is a perfect place for them."

Erik paused. "Does this change how you feel about me? I know it's a lot, but…Do you still love me? Do you still…want to marry me?" He closed his eyes. "I understand if you want to leave. I know I don't deserve any second chance. I don't deserve your forgiveness at all. But…I beg you, please try to understand. And if this is too much, then I'll take you home, I promise. But please…Please marry me, Christine."

Christine considered. _I suppose I…I have to forgive him. What else can I do? I don't want to live without him…_ She looked at Erik, his amber eyes gleaming with tears, his face almost grey with worry. Softly, she stroked his cheek. "Erik…Are you sorry for what you did?"

"Of course, Christine. If I could take it back…Those were the lowest years of my life, and I…I'm not that man anymore. I don't want to _be_ him."

Christine smiled. "You really _are_ sorry…"

"When I was a young man I thought that if I could fix one thing about myself, it would be my face. I'd have given anything to make that change, not even to look handsome, but even just _bearable_. But now…There are some days I would rather be twice as ugly, and have my soul back." Erik bit his lip. "I could bear to be on my own, if I could take back everything I've done. A lonely human being, instead of a married _monster_. But…I can't _get_ that back. I'm a shell of what I once was, barely human…And I can't cope with that on my own. If I am to be a monster, I can't be alone, too. I…I need you, Christine. Please…Can you forgive me? I so badly need your love. I need my wife."

He was holding his breath, his life hanging by a thread as he waited for her answer. Christine slowly and gently kissed his lips, embracing him. He was trembling, and she only wished to make him better again. "I forgive you, Erik."

"You do?"

"I can see how much you're hurting. I know you're sorry for what you did…So it's okay. I forgive you."

He stared at her. "And you'll marry me? Really?"

"I don't want you to suffer anymore. I want to be there for you, always."

"Oh, Christine…" He kissed her, grateful tears falling from his eyes. _She still loves me. That's all I ever wanted. _"Thank you, my angel. You are truly…the most wonderful woman in the world. And I don't deserve this goodness…"

"Shhh. It's okay, Erik. You _do_ deserve it. I can see that you've changed, and you said so yourself that you're not the same man. You've started over again…"

Erik gritted his teeth at her words. "But, see, Christine, that's _not_ true. I _wanted _to start again, I thought I could, but…I've taken human _life, _Christine. There's no way to fix that. I know that now."

Her fingers smoothed his hair. "You know you _can_. If you're sorry…You know I forgive you, and God forgives you, too."

He shook his head. "It doesn't always work like that, Christine. Sometimes, you've fallen too far."

"No. No, that's not true. There's always forgiveness if you're truly sorry. Daddy taught me that. So…Don't be afraid. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be better again?"

Erik stared at her. Like a dream, her words had called to him. A promise of freedom, there for him if only he accepted it. _Could I really go back to how I was before? To be _me _again? _It sounded so impossible to him. He knew he had ruined his life, but it was his fault. Why should he have the right to erase the past if he hadn't earned it?

Christine looked back at him, a smile still on her lips as she waited for his reply. _I have to help him. I have to make him see the truth. _

Erik nodded. He felt wonderfully confused, terrified but excited at the same time. "I can…I can really be free again? You're sure God would forgive me?"

"Mm-hm. _I _forgive you, and He loves you even more than I do." She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "And I love you a _lot_."

He chuckled, kissing her cheek. "Okay, I believe you. What do I do?"

She considered. "Well, we're going to talk to the priest about getting married soon, right? You could talk to him about it then."

"What a wonderful idea. Tell the priest who's going to marry us that I've murdered more than sixty people."

Christine stuck her tongue out at him. It came across as playful, she hoped, as she did her best to mask the feeling of nausea that she'd felt rise up at his words. _I can't stand hearing what he's done. Even knowing that he's sorry, and knowing I forgive him. It hurts too much to hear._ "Well, a different priest then. You'll feel better afterwards, I promise. Much better."

"Hmm." A sinking sensation started in the pit of his stomach. "Will you tell your father what I've told you, Christine?" _If she does…that would be the end. Michael's shown me so much mercy already…_ Erik had a feeling that he wouldn't be as forgiving if he found out everything else Erik had done.

She hesitated. "No, I won't tell him. Not if you don't want me to. You're sorry, you've changed your ways…I don't think he needs to know, in that case." She paused, checking her watch. "He still won't be back for a while. You want to kiss me again?"

"Just like that? You're just going to forget about what I told you?"

"Mm-hm. Just leave it in the past, where it belongs." _That's the best place for it all. _Thinking about all the details again made her uncomfortable. "But remember you can talk to me any time, right? If it's ever bothering you…" She knew that was the right thing to do, offer to listen to his problems, but she hoped she'd never have to hear about the killings again.

Erik hugged her. "Most wonderful woman…"

He kissed her again and again, until Michael returned home.

* * *

They began planning the wedding when Christmas was over. Christine had fallen in love with the village chapel at first sight, and found it especially beautiful on the day they began their plans. "It's lovely with the snow. I wonder what'd be more romantic? Getting married in winter or in summer?"

Erik shrugged. "Well, we could wait another year, if you'd like a winter wedding." He laughed at her expression. "I thought not."

They sat side by side, hands joined, as the priest talked them through everything. He was pleasant enough, giving them plenty of smiles, but was a little old and frail. Absent-mindedly, Christine decided that it was probably best for everyone that Erik didn't choose that priest to confess to. _Hearing that kind of information would probably kill him. _

She worried at first that they would be recognised, but no one in the village seemed to have done so. In choosing their new home, Erik had been sure to choose the most isolated place he could find. Newton had been out of the way; the new village was so small and rural that virtually no one had even heard about Christine's kidnapping, let alone remember the names of everyone involved.

Therefore, with wedding plans taking shape, Christine was delighted at the prospect of being married to Erik. Her only concern was for her father. _He's still not happy with any of this. And Erik's been so good to me…What if he never accepts him? _She couldn't choose between them.

Michael tried his best to come to terms with everything that was happening, as much as it was hurting him. However, one day, things became too overwhelming.

"Ephesians, five twenty-one to thirty-three. That's fine." The priest noted it down. "Have you picked any other readings yet?"

Christine shook her head. "But I'm thinking Schubert's _Ave Maria_ for music, down the aisle, maybe." She gave Erik a smile. "That's my favourite, I think."

"I know." He stroked her hand. "One of _our _songs," he whispered.

She giggled. "It'll be weird if you're not playing it, though…"

Michael tugged at his shirt collar, pushing his chair back. "I need air." He left the room before they could stop him, making his way outside to the cold. Breathing deeply, he fought back tears.

Christine went out to fetch him and stood there beside him. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"I…I can't do this." He gasped. "I can't sit in there watching you plan a life with him, Christine. I can't bear it…"

"Dad…"

"No, I…I'm sorry. I _can't_…"

Christine nodded. "I know this is a lot for you. But please trust me." She leaned against the smooth stone wall of the chapel. "What is it that's bothering you? You like Erik so far…"

"I _don't_ like him, Christine. I can't _stand_ him. I put up with him because he makes you happy."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Hey, if I was getting married to someone else, you might just put up with him, too, right? Why don't you try getting to know him? You might like him. You've got a lot in common."

"Like what?"

She paused. "You both play the violin. You could do duets."

He snorted. "You want me to play second fiddle to him?"

"Oh, Dad…" Christine hugged him. "You'll always be my number one guy!" Her smile fell, her tone becoming more serious. "That's why…I need you to be there for me in this. I love you. And I want you to be there on my special day…"

"Sweetie, of course I'll be there. I wouldn't miss that for the world."

"Really? You'll be there? Even though you don't like him?"

"Really." He kissed her cheek. "I only…wish you wouldn't. You can still change your mind…"

"Dad. You know I love him."

"I know. And I know I can't stop you." _If I told her not to marry him, she's such a good girl that she'd probably cancel everything, and I could take her back home. And then she'd be miserable again. _Michael felt his heart sinking: he knew what he had to do. "Would you at least consider…waiting a while longer?"

Christine frowned. The obligatory six months' notice was hard enough for her to wait out. "You mean…Another few months?"

"I meant…" _I don't know what I meant. _"Another year? Or…two?"

Her blood ran cold. "Dad, I know you don't want this to happen, but it's going to. Postponing it is only going to make it harder for you when it finally does."

The door opened, and Erik stepped outside to check on them. "Is everything all right? You were taking a while…" Automatically, he moved towards Christine, putting his arm around her.

"Mm-hm." She burrowed into his coat away from the cold. "Everything's fine. We should get back inside. Are you coming, Dad?"

"I…" He pressed a hand to his brow. "I don't know if I can…"

"Please, Dad. We're not going to be married for months yet. Just…give it some time. _Please_."

Unwillingly as it was, Michael returned inside, sitting in his chair at the back of the office again. He nodded a little to the priest to let him know that he was okay, even though inside he was anything but.

The planning continued, and he tried to console himself by watching the joyous expression on his daughter's face. _I have to do this for her. If only to see her happy. _But his mind was still tortured whenever he thought of Erik and what he could do to Christine. _If he hurt her…I'd never forgive myself. _But he couldn't deny that so far, things seemed to have gone well.

"Have you thought of a date yet? Here…" The priest handed Christine a little leather-bound diary, which she consulted. "Any day that's in green is free."

"Hmm…Six months from now would be…oh, no! July's all booked up. That's a shame." _Six months exactly would have been perfect. It'll be hard to wait even longer. _"But I guess if you're not fast, you're last…What do you think, Erik? August? Oh, that's busy too…September?"

"Whatever you'd like, darling." Erik crossed the room to speak with Michael, his face knotted with concern under his mask. "Are you feeling all right about this?" he asked softly.

"No. You don't deserve her."

"Oh, I know _that_. There's not a man in this world who does."

Christine continued flipping through the book. Erik and Michael watched her together.

Michael shook his head. "She's so excited. And you…"

"You hate me. I understand. But I've done all that I can to do what's best for your daughter. If there's anything more you want me to do…"

"No. Even if you treat her like a princess, you can't change what you did to her."

He wanted to cry. "Will you ever let me forget my past mistakes? Let me move on?"

"Hmm…What about on a Sunday?"

The priest scratched his chin. "Well, it's not really the done thing. We'd need to fit it in around all the other Masses…" Christine stared at him, her eyes wide, and he gave in. "All right, my dear, we'll make it happen."

"Yes!" Triumphant, she turned to Erik. "See, that frees up a lot of days, so now we could get married in July. Although…I always thought June weddings were romantic…Does it have to be six months' notice exactly?"

Michael laughed. "Always determined to get what she wants…"

"She is, isn't she?" Erik looked on at Christine, love for her welling up, flooding his heart. _I can't believe we'll be married so soon from now…_ "But…" He looked back at Michael. "Please, let's try to put the past behind us. For her?"

"Any particular day in mind, Christine?"

"Mm-hm. That Sunday's free." She pointed an eager finger at the page. "That's the only day that's free in June. And it's only two weeks or so off of six months…"

"Oh, you're breaking my heart…Very well, I'll pull some strings with the bishop."

"Yay!" Christine gave the priest a hug. "Erik, we get a June wedding!"

"Wonderful!" He wrapped his arms around her as she joined him on his side of the room. "What date is that?"

"June 16th."

Erik's face fell as his guilt rose up. "That's…that's great, sweetie." He held onto her, directing his eyes to Michael, who had gone very pale. Embarrassed, he looked back to Christine. _She doesn't know, does she? She doesn't realise what date that is._

He had so desired to forget about what he'd done to Christine, to pretend to himself that they'd met under ordinary, honourable circumstances. One of the worst days of his life had been that day – not at the time, of course, which made it all the more awful.

The day of his marriage to Christine – the day on which she would give herself freely to him in love – would be the same day on which he had taken her, against her will, seizing her love for himself. The morning after their wedding night, when Christine would wake in his arms after they'd made love together for the first time, would be a year to the day from when she'd woken up in terror in a strange place, fearing that he'd raped her. Erik wondered if he should tell Christine the significance of that date. He had no doubt that if she realised it troubled him as it did, she would reschedule in an instant. But then she would have to give up the June wedding she wanted. She thought it was romantic: that was all. But regardless of how much or how little it would bother her to have a different date he refused to do anything that might make her less happy. He wanted her day to be perfect. And besides, it seemed wrong for him to object, about something that was his fault. He didn't want to be reminded of his past? Well, that was his problem. _How dare I complain…_

Therefore, he would have to learn to live with it, for the rest of his life. _And that will be my punishment._

As the three of them left the chapel together, Michael spoke to him in a weak voice, summing up how Erik was feeling in a single, ironic statement: "Enjoy your anniversary."

* * *

Erik and Michael's relationship remained strained over the next few weeks, the stress of planning the wedding not helping matters at all. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they wouldn't argue in front of Christine. Both of them enjoyed seeing her so excited as the wedding took shape.

But they were unable to completely put their differences aside, and Christine could see it. In February, she became sick, a stomach bug that Michael and Erik treated as if it were life-threatening.

In the kitchen, Michael filled a hot water bottle, Erik hovering over him as he did. Once it was ready, he started for Christine's room.

"Here, I can get that."

Michael stared at Erik's outstretched hand. "No, it's fine. I can get it."

He shrugged. "I know. I just think I should be the one to be with her right now."

"No. She's my daughter."

"And she's my fiancée."

Michael pushed past him as he moved upstairs. "Look, I'm not arguing with you, Erik. _I'm_ staying with her."

"Why?"

He pressed a hand to his forehead. "Because it's my _job_. I'm her father, that's what I do. That's what I've always done. If she's sick, _I_ look after her."

"What, and I'm supposed to just do nothing for her? Let you do everything?" Erik felt his temper flaring up, and he tried his best to suppress it. "You have to start accepting the fact that Christine loves me, and she needs me to be there with her…"

Christine pulled open her bedroom door, a look of exasperation on her sweltered face. "Are you _kidding _me? I am _sick _in here. I'm tired, my head aches, it's coming out both ends, I'm _burning up_ here while my feet freeze, and you're arguing over who gets to look after me?" She grabbed the hot water bottle from Michael's hands, as both of them looked on in stunned silence. "Grow up, both of you. I'm going back to bed. And…someone get me some cereal."

Turning on the spot, she went back to bed, the hot water bottle at her toes as she tucked herself in. Without a word, Erik went downstairs to fetch her cereal, as Michael came into her room, head lowered.

"I'm sorry, Christine. You're right, we were…I don't know."

"Being stupid."

"Exactly."

Christine groaned, rubbing her stomach. "You do realise that there's room at my bedside for both of you, right? Both of you could be here…I don't know, singing for me, maybe. Making me feel better."

"I know. It's just hard for me to let him…" Michael sighed, tucking the sheets around her shoulders. "I still don't like him being near you."

She scoffed at his words. "You honestly don't think Erik's capable of looking after me? Even after everything he's done?"

"It's precisely _because _of everything he's done."

"And what he's done since then…that doesn't count?" She paused, coughing. "Tell me truthfully. In the past weeks and months that I've been with him, has he done _anything _to make you think you couldn't trust him?"

He knew the answer immediately, but scanned his memories quickly just in case. "No. He's been a gentleman with you. And you're happy…But that doesn't change what he's_ done_…"

"So you admit it, then?"

"Admit what?"

"You're judging him by who he _was_,not who he is now. Aren't you?"

Michael paused. _She's got me there, hasn't she? That's the kind of thing I've always taught her: "People can change, Christine; pray for your enemies, don't dwell on their mistakes…" I guess it's all coming back to haunt me now. _"Yes, I guess I am. You're right, I'm a real hypocrite."

She smiled. "So…you have to forgive Erik. Like you told me to. 'Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future', right?"

"That was Oscar Wilde."

"Well…it sounds like something you'd say."

"Thanks." Michael gently stroked her hot forehead, trying to think of something to tell her. _I want to say she's wrong. Erik's different, what he's _done_ is different…and that just sounds hollow now. _"How are you feeling?"

Christine yawned, stretching. "A little better, not as sick. Don't change the subject!" She heard Erik's footsteps on the stairs. "Okay, time to eat my cereal."

Michael nodded. "Look, I know _you've _forgiven him…"

"God's forgiven him. Maybe you should, too."

Erik brought a tray of food into the room, setting it down on Christine's lap. "How's this?"

"Thank you, Erik!" She kissed his cheek. "Hopefully, I keep this down okay…" She took a spoonful, but stopped. "You don't have to watch me eat, you know. You could sit down."

"Oh."

There was only one chair at Christine's bedside, which her father sat in, and Erik was about to sit at the foot of her bed. With a great deal of hesitation, Michael got up. "Hey, sit…Sit here."

Their eyes met as they switched places. Erik gave Michael a nod. He was hardly able to believe what Michael was doing. It was such a small gesture, but he was sure he understood what it meant. _Has he really decided to trust me to look after her?_

Christine ate her cereal, unable to hide her smile.

Erik took her hand, playing with her engagement ring. "Anything else I…_we_ can get for you, Christine?"

"No, I'm okay. You could sing for me, though, if you wanted."

"Of course. I'll sing if you'd like me to sing."

"Both of you."

The two men exchanged glances. "Okay…" Michael paused. _There's a point coming here. I can feel it. _"What will we sing?"

"Hmm. That duet from the Pearl Fishers?"

"_Au font du temple saint _?" Erik smirked. _I knew she'd pick that one. _"Christine, that is an aria celebrating a friendship between two men."

"Mm-hm."

"Two men who promise to be best friends, no matter what, and never to argue or fight again."

"Yeah." She stirred the cereal in her bowl, listening to it crackling.

Michael shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Could you be a little less subtle, sweetie? I'm not quite getting what you're driving at."

"What?" Her face was the picture of innocence. "I like the song."

"Of course you do." He got up, shrugging to Erik. "I'm not sure my French is up to scratch, but I'll do my best."

Christine watched, feeling jubilant, as both of them conceded to sing for her. _This is what I wanted. I wonder if they actually like each other at all. Hmm… _She wasn't sure they were quite there yet._ But this is the first step. _"I think you should start by shaking hands."

Erik extended his hand to Michael, uncertain if he would take it or not. He was glad when he did. The first time they had shaken hands, they had been agreeing to try to get along simply for Christine's sake.

This time was different. This time, Michael wanted to take what Christine had said to heart. _She's right. I have to try to forgive him. Otherwise, I can't move on…_

They sang together, both of them revelling in how delighted it made Christine. When she fell asleep, Michael left Erik at her bedside as he took the empty tray back to the kitchen. The usual anxiety he got when leaving them alone together was present again, but he admitted to himself that it was far less than before. _The first time I left them alone…I put my faith in him. He didn't disappoint me. _

Did he trust Erik completely? He wasn't sure. At the very least, he knew that Erik would never harm Christine, at least not physically. _But his influence on her…He could harm her in other ways. It would be so easy for him to break her heart. _He felt his pulse beginning to speed up. _What if that's all he's after? To take what he wants from her, leave her when he's done…_

That was ridiculous, of course, and he knew it. _No. Erik loves her. _"Erik loves her," he whispered, breaking the stillness in the house. _Of course he does. And she loves him._

As he travelled back upstairs, he paused, watching from the doorway as Erik played with a sleeping Christine's hair. He nodded. His mind was made up.

"Erik? Would you…would you come outside for a minute?"

_What's going on? _He stood, leaving the door slightly ajar as he left the room.

On the landing outside, Michael forced himself to breathe, preparing himself. Already, he could feel the words failing him. _This is going to be short. Maybe it's better that way. _Just thinking about what he was going to do was painful, but in a good way. It was like fire, purging him of all his impurities, making him stronger. And yes, it would hurt, but he would be all the better for doing it.

Erik could see in his eyes that something was coming, something monumental. He waited for Michael to speak, knowing what he hoped he would say, but hardly daring to believe it.

"I…" He faltered. "This is really hard for me to say," he admitted. "And honestly, I don't _want _to. But I know I have to. No matter how I feel about you, I can't let this _consume_ me like it has. All this anger, it's been eating me up inside, and -"

"Michael…" Erik sighed. "I'm so sorry. I know this has been awful for you, going through all of this -"

"I'm sorry, too." He watched Erik's eyes widen and his lips begin to form an objection to his words. With a wave of his hand, he silenced him. "No, no…I've made mistakes, too. You don't know half of what I told her about you, ignoring everything she told _me_ about your good character. I was so convinced you were a monster: I admit that. And nothing you could ever say or do would make me change that. The things I thought about you…I was just so angry. I hated you. Everything about you."

Christine peered through the doorway, unseen by either of them.

Erik nodded. "After what I've done, that's understandable. To be angry with me…that's just human nature."

"It's fallen nature. I want to be free of it." He wiped his brow. "And like I said, I know what I _have_ to do, even if I don't feel it yet. Maybe that'll come with time…I don't know…"

There was another long pause as Michael again prepared to say what he had to. "Christine was right. She always was, and she's _happy_ now, and…" _'I wish all the best in your marriage'? _He supposed that he _did_, or at least, he wanted Christine to have the best, and that necessarily entailed Erik having so, too. _I guess that's how marriage works, after all. _"Anyway, I…I keep avoiding what I know I have to say, and…" He felt himself forcing it out. "I forgive you, Erik."

It was as if a floodgate had been opened inside of him. "I forgive you," he repeated, the words bringing tears to his eyes. "I…I don't want to hate you anymore. And I…" He began to sob, unable to speak. Everything was too overwhelming.

Watching him cry was painful. _I did this to him. _Erik could hardly bear the reality of that. _And after everything…he forgives me? As if I deserved that from him…I owe him everything. _The tears continued, and instinctively, Erik put his arms around him, embracing him like a brother. _Or…like a son, I suppose. I'll be his son-in-law soon enough…_

A weight had been lifted from Michael. He couldn't stop crying, but that was okay, because everything was going to be all right. Choosing to forgive Erik…that was frightening. It was taking a step out into deep waters, without knowing if he would sink beneath the waves. A walk of faith…trusting that he wouldn't have cause to regret it. And he _did_ have faith.

Forgiving Erik made things both easier and harder. He was so used to hearing Christine's words of love for Erik, his mind forcing him to feel anger. Even if he _did _agree with her: when he had witnessed Erik doing something truly beautiful for his daughter, he wanted to appreciate it; instead, he convinced himself that doing so would be wrong. For him to admit that anything good could come from Erik, after everything he had done, felt like a betrayal. And despite knowing how ridiculous it was, he _made_ himself dismiss that good act, as difficult as that was, against all rationality. Now that he had forgiven him, he no longer had to lie to himself, and that was easier.

But some days had been difficult for him. The memories of those five weeks in which Christine had been missing haunted him. When he reminded himself of how he had felt, how much he had suffered, how much he _still _suffered…then he wanted someone to blame. In forgiving Erik, he would also have to stop condemning him for what had happened. The next time he remembered the weeks without Christine, not knowing whether she was alive or dead, he could no longer say that it was Erik's fault. Instead, he would have to accept that he had been greatly wronged, and there was no one who would face charges for it, no one he was even able to hate. And that was harder.

And yet, Michael still felt freedom in forgiveness. Pointing the finger would never take away his pain, only prolong it. All it gave him was a self-righteous satisfaction, which could never last. Letting everything go…already, he felt better. The pain would fade in time.

He could tell Christine she was right. _When she wakes up from her nap, I'll let her know._

Christine continued observing them as they stood together, both men in tears. She returned to bed, pretending to sleep as they came through to her room again. She felt her father kiss her forehead, felt Erik's hand taking hers.

And for the first time, all three of them were at peace.

* * *

**So…Read and review! Please! We're near the end, and I'd so appreciate your feedback, even if it's just a few words!**

**Phanatic01: Awww, **_**nearly**_** in tears? Darn, I tried my hardest! lol! Anyway, glad you enjoyed it!**

**emeraldphan: Thank you so much! Yeah, it's been fun writing Michael's character. I figured that I wasn't going to have a Raoul character, I had to have someone to replace his role as the other man in Christine's life. I hope it's an interesting take on it, since unlike with an Erik-Christine-Raoul love triangle, in this case, everyone could win! Thanks for the review!**

**Kalia of Camelot: lol! Hey, you can criticise me if you like, I don't mind constructive criticism! But I'm glad you're enjoying it anyway! Thanks!**

**xxx**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey, guys!**

**So…This is the last chapter! Finally, I got there! If you've stuck with me so far, thank you so much!**

**(If you hadn't realised it by now, this is the wedding, and the night that follows it, so bear that in mind when you're reading!)**

**I'm looking back at all the old chapters I've written, and now they all look so amateurish – repeating myself, a serious aversion to the word 'said', and an about 50% success rate in the correct use of semicolons. That's probably to be expected, since I started writing this back when I was in high school.**

**One of these days, I might go back and edit everything until it reads a lot better, but that's all depending on how much time I've got; I'm not going to fix one chapter and leave the rest, so I'll have to do them all at once. Don't worry, I won't be changing any of the actual storyline, just tidying up the way it's written.**

**Anyway, enjoy the final chapter! Hopefully, you'll like how the story turns out! **

**xxx**

* * *

"Okay, neither of you can see it before the day, right?" Christine gave the suit cover folded over her arm a loving pat. "So…Don't just come barging into my room, okay?"

Erik raised an eyebrow. "When do either of us everjust barge into your room?"

"Also, won't that dress be safely packed away inside that cover until the big day?" Michael grinned. "Isn't that the correct manner in which to store a wedding dress?"

"Well, yeah, but I might be trying it on, making sure it still fits, or…" She shuffled her feet. "Or…just wearing it…in case it's…it's…Don't come into my room!"

Michael and Erik watched as Christine raced up to her bedroom, her feet barely touching the ground. Her father sighed, shaking his head. "I swear she's going to be wearing that all week. Or…six days?" He whistled. "Wow, it's not long now."

"I know." Automatically, Erik's heart was beating faster. _Six days till I have a wife! I can't believe it…_Michael had begun to move his belongings to the other house, giving Erik the space he needed to finish preparing his home for Christine, for when she officially moved in. They had spent so long apart, in different bedrooms, and although he knew that their time separated was going to make it all the more special for them when they were back together, he had missed her dearly; after all the nights he'd spent lying beside her, it was hard to sleep alone.

In some ways, he regretted that he had allowed her to share a bed with him before they were married._ It's really not helped improve Michael's opinion of me… And besides, it was so difficult, being that close to her and having to…restrain myself. _Really, he'd been torturing himself, when he thought about he'd be married soon. _And then…wow._

There was more planning to be done in those final few days, most of it carried out by Erik. He liked doing things for Christine, keeping her from being too stressed. And it kept him busy.

Christine, meanwhile, could hardly believe what was happening to her. She travelled through each day as though in a dream. She discussed plans with Erik, all the time thinking that it couldn't be _her _life that was being planned. Other people got married all the time, and she'd seen so many movies, read so many books, all about other people's weddings. Perhaps that was why she was getting confused. And even if it _was _her wedding being planned, it had to be all hypothetical, surely?

As her father had suspected, she loved wearing her dress, spending ages viewing herself in the long bedroom mirror, head to toe. She tried to be serious, tried to look at least halfway elegant. But she'd always end up giggling, like the teenager she still was. _That's me! I'm getting married! And…to Erik… _That excited her, knowing that she would get to spend the rest of her life with him. _The most wonderful man I've ever known. He's just so perfect. _

What made him perfect, she realised, were all of his _imperfections_. As impossible as that sounded, she knew it was true. Erik's past mistakes, although disturbing and brutal, only made his present self the more loving and gentle because of them. His addictions and his temper, which she knew he still struggled with, made her see him as determined, strong, courageous. And his unordinary face meant that she could never be blinded by shallowness, focussing only on his beautiful temperament.

But of course, now she found Erik's face beautiful, too. It featured heavily in her dreams as well as in her reality. Even when kissing him, she sometimes liked to open her eyes, just for a moment or two. She could watch his face, so close it was blurry, imagining what he was thinking behind closed eyelids. She wondered what he dreamed about.

The rehearsal came next. Christine had thought it silly, at first. _Can it really be that hard to walk down an aisle? _But quickly, she realised that there was a lot more to it, and she began to worry about the little things. _What if I trip coming down here? The shoes I'm wearing, they might slip off…And we're right at the front, so what if I forget when we're meant to stand up or kneel down? And all the stuff I have to say…Or Erik's ring. What if I drop it? Or drop _mine_?_

On any other occasion, she might actually panic, thinking about all the possibilities. But the worries didn't bother her so much. She only had to turn to Erik, see his reassuring smile or feel his hand squeezing hers, and she was suddenly better, knowing that none of those little things mattered.

At one point, she really did trip, just a little, over her own feet as she practiced walking down the aisle. Erik put an arm around her waist, steadying her, his face for an instant knotted with concern. His hand lingered on her hip a few seconds longer, and she saw the desire flickering in his eyes. She blushed.

That evening, they had dinner together, just the two of them. Erik watched her intently from across the table as he ate, thinking about everything they'd been through together. _Almost a year ago exactly, we were eating together for the first time. She was so frightened of me. But everything's fine now. Everything's better. _"More wine?"

"No, I'm okay." She finished the last few drops of Tokay, and then sipped at her water. "I don't want to be hung-over for my wedding day." That was how every conversation went now: always related somehow to their marriage.

Erik chuckled. "Yes, it's pretty potent stuff, I suppose." He checked his watch. "It's getting late, anyway. You should be getting to bed soon. You need your rest."

"Awww…Please, can't we stay up a little longer? I'll just sleep late. The wedding's not till four…"

"How long will it take you to get ready?"

"Hmm…" She shrugged. "Well, I'll just catch up on sleep later, then."

"No, I'm not letting you sleep. Not for a few nights, anyway."

"What?"

Erik smirked. "It's a joke, Christine. Think about it."

She did…and then blushed again.

He rose from his seat. "I almost forgot…" He fetched a large, pink box, wrapped up with a thick, white ribbon. "These are yours."

"Erik! Thank you." She was used to his little presents by now, but still loved to receive them, knowing the thought that he put into each one. Opening the box, she found four smaller boxes, in various sizes.

As Christine looked over them with great curiosity, Erik picked up the first one, handing it to her. "Something old…"

Comprehension came to her, and a smile lit up her face. Inside the box was a crystal brooch, flower-shaped and delicate. The silver was slightly tarnished with age, making it all the more beautiful. "Wow…"

"It was my mother's. And _her_ mother's before that. And…so on, for several generations, at least. But she never had a daughter, so…I think she'd want you to have it."

Christine knew little about Erik's mother other than that she'd treated him terribly, regardless of how much Erik tried to excuse her behaviour. She shouldn't have wanted to wear her brooch when she'd been so cruel to her son. Yet for some reason, it wasn't like that at all. _It's a family brooch. It's been passed down, from mother to child, a gift of love…And she failed. She didn't love him. _Christine traced the crystals with a finger. _That's why it was passed on to me. I'll succeed where she failed. I'll love him, with all my heart. And I guess…someday I can pass it on to _our _daughter._

Erik selected a second box, slightly larger than the first. "Something new…"

This box contained a necklace with a frosted glass heart. As Christine picked it up, she breathed in the soft aroma of flowers, and realised it was filled with perfume. "It's so pretty…You have great taste."

"I saw it, and I thought of you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Little glass hearts remind you of me?"

"Well…It was unique and beautiful."

"And it smells nice."

Erik laughed. "Well, that too." He picked up the third box. "Something borrowed…"

An antique bracelet, made up of square panels, each decorated with a different design. Birds, flowers, a palace, tiny people…She studied them, seeing how detailed each painting was, and noted the Persian writing on the reverse. "Did Firouz give you this?"

"Well, I…borrowed it, like I said."

"Without asking?"

"One of these days, I'll give it back to him."

The last box was the largest. "Something blue…" Erik began to hand it over, but hesitated. "Perhaps you should save this one. Open it tomorrow."

Christine took it from him, giving it a gentle shake, but heard nothing. "Not even a peek? Why can't I see it?"

"Well…" He turned away, and she swore he looked nervous. "You might not…like them…or…"

_Them? _She gave him a kiss. "If you picked them, then I'll love them! No matter what."

He bit his lip. "Okay. Go ahead." But he took several steps away from her, still not daring to look at her.

Christine opened the box and unwrapped the tissue paper. Inside, she saw white and blue lace. Her heart fluttered as she lifted the underwear out, and she heard Erik giving an awkward cough behind her.

But she didn't blush this time. When she'd first realised what the box contained, she'd assumed she would be embarrassed. Seeing them properly, however, she couldn't possibly be. They weren't lewd or suggestive – if they had been, she would have felt uncomfortable, or even anxious at the thought of wearing them, even for Erik. But they were nothing like that. The fabric was exquisitely woven, the lace pattern intricate. Everything about them suggested purity, virtue. Tears came to her eyes: this was how Erik saw her. She was beautiful to him.

Looking at herself in the mirror the following morning, Christine only felt more loved. The soft material hugged her frame, the delicate decorations enhancing, rather than overpowering, her own appearance. What she loved most was the thin, translucent veil that was attached below her breasts. It fell to her waist, covering her womb. The significance of that fact was not lost on her. _What we'll share together tonight…it means so much. So much is going to come from it. _She smiled again at her reflection. _I kind of look all wrapped up, like a present. The gift I'm giving Erik…the gift he's giving me…_

Her father called from downstairs. "Sweetie? Someone here to see you."

_To see me? _Christine wrapped a dressing gown around herself, going downstairs. _Who could _be_ here, except Erik? Or Firouz, maybe? But I thought he was staying with Erik?_

A young woman with flaming red hair was in the living room waiting for her. "Oh, so this must be Christine! How are you feeling?"

"I…" _Who the heck is this girl? _"Great, I guess. A little nervous."

"Well, let me do all your worrying for now! Just sit back, relax." She opened out a metallic case, revealing eye-shadows, lipsticks and curling tongs.

Christine's face lit up. "I should have guessed. Hair and make-up…Were you in on this, Dad?"

He shrugged. "Well, he mentioned it, asked if he thought you'd like someone to do it for you or not…Personally, I thought it was a waste of money. I mean, it's just…make-up and hair."

Christine sat down, excited. It had been a long time since she'd been pampered.

"Anything in mind at all for hairstyle?"

"Hmm. Not really." That was one thing she'd been dreading, and why she'd been glad to see a stylist there to help her. "It's just so…_short_. I mean, you couldn't even put it up."

"Oh, we could put it up, don't worry!" From her case, she pulled out several lengths of blond hair extensions, holding them up to her head one by one to find the correct colour. "Perfect. We could get some length with these. What do you think?"

"Huh." Christine paused, contemplating whether she wanted fake hair on her wedding day. _Actually, it's not even fake hair, is it? It's some other woman's…eww. _No, that wasn't really what she wanted. "What could you do with short hair? As opposed to longer hair?"

The redhead showed her some photos in a folder, but none of them looked quite right. She noticed a picture paperclipped to the inside of the folder. "What's that one?"

"Your fiancé suggested that, wondered if you'd like it. I could try it, let you see what you think?"

It would require longer hair than she had, and Christine tried to make up her mind. "Okay," she answered. _It _is _very pretty. And it's what Erik thought would be nice. I guess I can put up with someone else's hair for a few hours._

Christine relaxed, her eyes closed serenely as the stylist worked on her hair. _I do miss how it used to be. But it'll grow back. _In the meantime, she was glad it would look elegant again, even if just for the day.

After many minutes, she was directed to open her eyes, as mirrors were held up for her to see the work. "Wow! It looks good! It actually looks like my hair used to…" Her hair had been put up into a loose bun, with some of the locks trailing on her neck. It was formal enough, but not overly so. "I love it. I wonder where he got this idea…"

Her stylist fixed everything in place with hairspray, adding some flowers in with a hairclip. "Oh, he said it was how the Venus de Milo wore her hair, so he wondered if it'd suit you."

Christine laughed. "Really? Dad, do I look like the Venus de Milo?"

"Oh, sure. Just…not naked, and able to scratch your nose."

She grinned. "Thanks."

Make-up on, Christine was ready to get dressed. The wedding gown was released from its cover, and she put it on as she'd done before. She was already good at moving around in it, able to walk in the high heels she'd picked. The brooch Erik had given her was fastened to the front, in the middle of her chest, as she put on the other jewellery. Downstairs, her veil was fixed to the back of her head with a comb, as the hair and make-up woman gave her father orders not to look.

But then Christine was ready, and he did look. There was his daughter, his only daughter, ready for her wedding day. "Oh, Christine…"

Her eyes were clear and blue, framed with grey and pink. Her face was aglow, her lips in a wide smile. A long veil enclosed her hair, with red and pink flowers crowing everything off. At her neck hung a glass heart, which sparkled in the sunlight, just above a crystal brooch. And then the dress…The sleeves were thin and delicate, puffing out a little over her shoulders. At her right wrist was a bracelet, brightly coloured. Just below it was her engagement ring, her left hand now free. The bodice of her dress was heavily embroidered with flowers and leaves, like a garden of lace. Around her waist was a thick, silk ribbon. Layer upon layer of white satin made up her skirt, which flowed down to the floor, and he saw the front of her shoes, just visible from underneath it all. They were open at the front, and her toes peeked out.

Michael retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his eyes. _I knew I'd cry. _"Oh, look at you. My little girl…"

"You like it?"

"I…I just can't believe it. You're getting married…It seems like just yesterday I brought you home from the hospital, all wrapped up in your blanket. You were so small then…" He kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful, Christine."

"Daddy…" She fanned at her face with her hands. "No, I mustn't cry: my make-up…I'm glad you like it. Took me a while to pick it out."

The stylist left, and Christine and Michael sat together in the living room, watching the clock. In twenty minutes or so, the car would be there to take them to the chapel. "How are you feeling, Christine?"

"Wonderful! I can't believe this day's actually here."

"Mm-hm." He sighed. "You're happy doing this? You still want to marry him?"

"I do. I love Erik so much." Her smile began to fade. "_You_ still don't want me to marry him, do you?"

"I…I want what's best for you."

"But…you don't think that's what's best?"

_I don't know. I really don't know… _"I've gotten to know him, I guess. I know that Erik loves you very much, and…I just wonder if he'd make a good husband."

Christine nodded slowly. "I guess you can't know for sure, whoever it is you marry. You just have to trust them, have faith…I've experienced his love for me. I've heard how he speaks about our future, the kind of husband he wants to be to me, the kind of _father _he wants to be to our children someday. And I've seen him make mistakes, of course. But I've also seen how he makes up for them, always so determined to try again, and to do better next time. He _adores_ me, Dad. And there's a gentleness about him that I've never known before, not ever. I love him. I _love _him, and this day couldn't have come soon enough." She smiled at her father. "I'd trust Erik with my life. He's…my soulmate."

Michael chuckled. "'Soulmate', huh? You believe in that stuff? Of all the men in the world, he's the _only_ one for you?"

She smiled, shrugging. "All I know is, he's the one I've been given to love. That's all that really matters."

He hugged her. "Okay. If he's the one you want…Then we'd better get ready to go."

The finishing touch for Christine was her bouquet: three dozen red roses, decorated with green leaves and strands of crystals. Its scent floated up to her nose as she held it to her heart. _So pretty. I wonder how long they took to grow? I'll have to put them in some water when I get back home, save them a while. _It stuck her. _I'll be married by then! In fact…_She looked at the clock. _An hour from now, I'll be married! I'll be at the church by five-to-three, married by half-past…Less than an hour. This is my last hour being single…_She laughed out loud at herself. _Stop being silly, and just wait for the car!_

The car had been Erik's idea. It was only a few minutes' drive to the chapel, but she supposed she couldn't walk there in her dress. As they went, she watched the village pass by the window. The residents she'd gotten to know over the past months waved at her from the street, and she wondered if they were on their way to the chapel, too. "Do you think there'll be many people there, Dad?"

"Hard to say. Did you want them to come?"

She nodded, still looking out of the window. _They're all really nice here. _It was true that they'd been a little wary around Erik at first, but she knew most people were. When they'd first ventured outside together, shopping at a village market, she'd noticed the stares. They were obviously frightened of a man in a mask, which she supposed was understandable. _I guess I was, too. _Seeing their expressions, she'd pulled Erik towards her, taken his masked face in her hands, and kissed him fiercely in front of everyone. For the rest of the day, she'd walked arm-in-arm with him, letting her head rest against his shoulder, as she smiled her most contented-looking smile. _I think that did the trick. _After that, they seemed to understand that Erik was not at all dangerous, and she was sure they were coming to accept him, albeit slowly.

"Oh, Dad, look!" Christine tugged at Michael's shoulder, pointing out of her window. A handmade banner had been put up outside the bakery, flapping slightly in the wind: _Congratulations, Christine & Erik!_

"Awww. Isn't that nice?"

She blinked away tears. "Mm-hm. The Pearsons are really sweet. I can't wait to eat their cake!" _Red velvet…mmm…Wait, by the time I eat it, I'll be married…_

He nodded. "Remember to thank them both next time you see them."

"I will, Dad."

As they turned the corner, the chapel came into view, and Christine's heart really began to race. _This is happening. It's really happening…_

The driver parked outside. Christine watched as her door was opened, and her father helped her to get out. Clutching her flowers in both hands, she felt her father take her arm, leading her to the door. Looking up, she saw he was crying again. "Dad…" She kissed his cheek. "It's okay. Don't worry."

Michael nodded, feeling weak. He inhaled deeply. "Are you ready, sweetie?"

"I'm ready. Let's go in." She hoped she sounded braver than she felt. _Why am I so nervous? Everything's going to be okay…_ But she was starting to worry, the butterflies swarming up inside her. _You can do this. Just get inside. _

Inside, she didn't feel much better. She heard the chatter of people as she stood in the vestibule, and wondered how many had turned out to see her. Some woman she didn't recognise smiled broadly at her, opening the inner door a little, and signalled to someone else inside. She heard music beginning to play, the shuffle of people getting to their feet.

"Okay, we're ready for you! Go on in!"

Christine stared at her, wide-eyed. _It's happening now. _She took a tentative first step, almost wobbling in her high heels. Her arm tightened around her father's, her knuckles white around her bouquet.

The doors were opened fully, music flooding into her ears, as multi-coloured sunlight streamed down from the stained-glass above her. It was all too overwhelming. All she wanted was to turn back.

And then her eyes focussed, and she saw Erik.

He stood at the altar, gazing at her with eyes so full of love, his lips curling into a smile. All of her fears melted away like snow under a warm sun. It all seemed so easy now.

Erik watched Christine with joy as she made her way towards him. Time stood still. He had never seen her look so beautiful, far surpassing even his fondest dreams. _My Christine…She's really here. After everything we've been through together, we made it…_

Rose petals rustled beneath her feet as she walked, her father guiding her steps. She heard the people on either side of her murmuring amongst themselves about how lovely she looked, but took no notice. Even seeing Firouz at the front of the church seemed unexceptional to her. All of her attention was given to Erik.

She reached the altar at last. For a moment, Michael simply stood there, hesitating over what to do next. Christine's worries might have disappeared, but his were still there, and far stronger than hers had ever been. But after a few seconds, he nodded to himself. With great care, he loosened his hold on Christine's arm, giving her cheek one last kiss. _My little girl…_And then, taking Christine's hand, he placed it firmly into Erik's. "Take care of her," he whispered. He stepped away, letting the two of them kneel there at the altar together, hand-in-hand.

As the Mass began, it was Erik's turn to be nervous. Christine felt him tremble, ever so slightly, and she squeezed his hand tighter. "Don't be afraid," she said, her voice soft and hushed. "I love you."

Erik gave her a slight nod, his thumb stroking her fingers. _This is all so strange, and yet familiar. I feel like I've been here before. _He glanced at her again. _It's as if everything in my life…has been leading me to this moment. And now that I'm here, I never want it to end, not ever._

The organist played the _Kyrie_. Christine's brow furrowed. _I've never heard that music before. It's pretty…Wait…_ She looked at Erik with suspicion. "_You wrote this?_" she mouthed, more a statement than a question. He shrugged casually, and she smiled at him. _He wrote that for me. _For Erik to have put so much thought and effort into something for her made her feel so much more loved. _Although, I bet he'd tell be that I inspired him, or something. _She couldn't help but feel awed at how his love for her could create something so beautiful.

After the priest's homily (describing how marriage was about love and sacrifice, and wishing them a long and happy life together), it was time for the marriage itself. They stood, both hands now joined. Erik held onto her, afraid to let her go. At that moment, she was the only thing anchoring his feet to the earth, the only thing keeping him safe. He could trust her with his life. He _would _trust her with it, for as long he lived.

"Christine and Erik, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

Erik almost laughed. _If he only knew how much she's given up to be with me, how fully she's having to trust me… _"We have." He delighted in the sound of Christine's voice with his; they spoke as one.

"Will you love and honour each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?"

His eyes looked into hers, hardly believing that she was agreeing to such a thing with him. "We will." _Such love she has…giving me her heart completely. Such a good, gentle girl…_

"Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church?"

"We will." Christine's eyes had filled with tears, and with the lightest of touches, he brushed them away for her. _I love you so much. Let me prove it to you, in every moment we share together._

"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your hands now and declare your consent before God and His Church."

Erik swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness in his throat. "I, Erik, take you, Christine, for my lawful wife…" _I can't believe I'm doing this. _"…to have and to hold, from this day forward…" _My Christine. Mine forever. _"…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer…" _Please, God, let things be wonderful. Let her be the happiest of women._ "…in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

If anything, now he was more nervous. Vowing to love Christine forever was so natural for him. But now, he had to wait, hoping she would say it all back. Everything hinged on this for him.

Christine's breathing was getting faster, her heart rapidly beating. Every cell of her body longed to be close to Erik, to merge and be one with him.

"I, Christine, take you, Erik…" _My dear Erik._ "…for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward…" _I love him so much. A lifetime with him: that's all I could hope for._ "…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…" _I'll keep him safe. Always. _"…until death do us part."

They looked at each other, stunned. The priest smiled. "You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in His goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with His blessing. What God has joined, let no man separate."

Christine was almost confused. _That's…that's it? We're married. I'm Erik's wife… _She stared into his eyes, finally able to smile, understanding. _That man is mine. I'm his…We're not 'Christine and Erik' anymore. Now, we're just 'us'. We're one._

Erik experienced the same feeling, as he held Christine's hands. _It wasn't so long ago that I met her, just a few years ago that my life changed. And now we're together, just like I've always dreamed. _

Firouz brought the rings to them on a silk pillow, whispering a "Congratulations" to Erik as he took the ring. The little gold band glistened as he placed it on Christine's finger. He held his breath as she did the same for him, panicking suddenly. _My hands are sweating so much. She won't want to touch me. _But she did, of course, stroking his hands with tender care.

She held onto him for the rest of the Mass, never wanting to let him go. _He's so perfect. I can't ever leave him. _When they stood again, the priest announcing them as husband and wife, she felt excitement rushing through her. _Now I get to kiss him. _

Her hands went to his face, preparing to remove his mask, and Erik drew back. "No," he breathed. He had chosen to wear a mask that would leave his lips uncovered – despite how ugly he knew they were – specifically so that she would not have to take his mask off. He couldn't bring himself to look at the congregation, but he knew instinctively that they would be preparing themselves to see him, to satisfy their own morbid curiosity. "Please don't."

Christine paused. She desperately wanted to look at him as they kissed, their first time as man and wife. With determination, she pulled Erik towards her, their faces mere inches apart, turning her back on their audience. She rearranged her veil, bringing it forward over her head to cover Erik. He would be safe there, under that shield of lace with her. No harm would ever come to him. She unmasked him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they kissed. Vaguely, she was aware of the eyes on them both, so many people seeing her as she kissed him, his mask there in her hands. _Let them see. Let them see how much my Erik is loved._

The kissed over, she replaced Erik's mask, as he smoothed her veil back in place for her. _My dear Christine… _He saw her smiling at the very tearful Michael in the front row. Her father followed a little behind Christine and Erik as the couple left the church together, as one.

* * *

After being ambushed by confetti in the bright sunlight outside, Erik held Christine close to him as they waited for the cars to arrive back for them. Several village residents came out to congratulate them, wishing them happiness. It was true that many of them looked only at Christine as they did, and that none of them dared shake his hand, but Erik nevertheless had never felt prouder, his arm resting around her.

Christine snuggled closer to Erik. The sun was warm on her skin, yet his remained cool, refreshing her with its touch. _He was right. I should have slept more last night. _"How are you feeling, honey?"

"You're my wife. I _can _only feel happy now."

"Mmm. And you're my husband…" She tried out the word. It felt strange, but wonderful. "So…We're going straight to dinner?" They'd considered throwing a wedding reception, but had decided against it. Christine would have loved one, a chance for her to celebrate with new friends. But she'd seen how much Erik struggled around strangers, and couldn't bring herself to put him through anything else, telling him a dinner alone with him was what she wanted. Even as she stood outside the chapel with him, she felt how tense he was. _No, a dinner at home is best. It'll just be the two of us, and Erik can be comfortable._

Erik nodded. "Dinner's next. Unless you'd rather do something else?"

She kissed him, her hands stroking his neck. "I don't care what we do anymore. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh, that's so corny."

"Hmm. True, though."

"All right. Next time, I'll take you golfing. Or to the museum of pencils. Or to a very dark cellar…no, that's probably _too_ interesting." Christine flicked him on the arm. "Ouch. All right, we'll do something fun." He consulted his watch. "They should be here by now. What's taking them?"

"Maybe they're in traffic. Stuck…behind a tractor, or something…"

"Hmm." Erik sighed. "I'm sorry, Christine. I did want everything to be perfect today."

"It is! Everything's beautiful. Don't get upset about some cars."

He twisted his tie in his hands. "Still…"

Another woman came to congratulate them, with a little pigtailed girl grasping her hand. "You looked just lovely up there, Christine."

She beamed. "Thank you very much!"

The girl stared intently at Erik's mask. He did his best to smile back at her.

"Oh, and the music was _heavenly_! I don't think I've ever heard it before…Was it Mozart?"

"Well, actually -"

The girl pointed a pudgy finger at Christine's bouquet. "Can I have a flower, please?"

Her mother went red, pulling her away. "Daisy, _no_, that is not what we ask!"

"But I said 'please'…"

Christine eased one of her roses free from the rest of the bouquet, handing it to her. "There you go."

"Oh, that's very kind of you. What do we say, Daisy?"

Daisy grinned, showing the gap in her teeth. "Thank you!"

"Right, well, we should be going now." The flustered woman ushered her daughter away. "Thank you again, and I wish you both well."

The little girl looked back over her shoulder as she left. "Your mask is funny, mister…"

"_Now_, Daisy!"

Christine bit her lip, as the mortified woman left. She saw Erik smile, and was relieved. "You're okay?"

"Oh, fine. Believe me, I've had much worse. Wearing the mask does make an improvement."

"No, it doesn't. It just hides you from me."

"Hmm."

"You don't mind, do you? Giving her a flower?"

"Christine, they're _your_ flowers. You can turn them into potpourri, if that's what you want."

From then until when the cars arrived back, several more children also dared to ask Christine for a flower, sometimes more than one. Erik watched with bemusement as Christine's bouquet depleted in size, her face going pale. "You really want to keep those roses, don't you?"

"I…I don't mind."

"Yes, you do."

Christine touched a flower petal with care. "I guess I did want to keep them a little longer. But…they look so happy." She watched a group of girls dancing round in a circle, each waving a little bunch of roses high in the air.

_Such a good woman. _The cars finally arrived, and Erik helped his wife inside, holding her tight. She lay there against him, resting her head on his chest, and he felt utterly at peace. "How on earth did I manage to get _you_?"

She laughed. "I don't know. I guess…just by being yourself. You're naturally quite lovable, you know. Is that so hard to believe?"

"It's hard to take in, yes. Even…three years ago, I never dreamed I could be this happy." His voice lowered. "After everything I've done…I don't deserve you. All of my mistakes, all of my crimes -"

"We don't have to talk about this now, Erik," she said, kissing him quickly. "Just…Think about the future. We've got so much to look forward to."

"You're right. The past is the past." He glanced up to see if the driver was watching, but decided it didn't matter, and kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her. "I can't wait to get you home…"

"Mmm. I know…" She closed her eyes, able to feel his heartbeat, which was steadily getting faster.

"Have you thought about tonight?"

"Of course. I've been thinking about it all day."

He leaned in close to her, his voice soft and breathy. "Me too. I've wanted this for so long…"

"I know."

"What we'll get to do…"

"Red velvet cheesecake…mmm…"

Erik pulled back, slowly shaking his head. "You little minx…"

Christine grinned. "Of course I've thought about it," she whispered in his ear. "Don't worry. I've wanted this, too."

They arrived back at their house; for the first time, it really was _theirs_. Michael and Firouz met them outside, their own car already there. "Oh, Christine…" Michael hugged her, starting to cry again. "You looked so beautiful up there…"

"Thanks, Dad."

Erik left them talking together as he spoke to Firouz. "When does your flight leave?"

"In a few hours. But I'll have to leave for the airport very soon. I'm glad you arrived back here in time for goodbyes…You don't mind me borrowing one of the cars to take me there? How long do you have them?"

"Doesn't matter. They were late, they can make up for it. Go ahead."

"I suppose you'll want to be left alone now, anyway?"

"Of course. We're having cheesecake."

Firouz rubbed his neck. "Cheesecake…And I suppose tonight is…well, that's none of _my_ business, I suppose."

"No. No, it's not…" Erik hesitated, mouth slightly ajar. _Maybe I should…ask him…about…? No, I'm not asking him for his _advice_. My God, I've still got my self-respect… _"Anyway, just get your cases from our house, and leave us alone."

"Ah, 'alone'. Don't worry, my cases are already out. I'll just…leave you both _alone_."

Michael scanned his daughter's face. "You're feeling okay, Christine?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little tired, I guess."

"You had fun today?"

"It's been wonderful so far." She held her bouquet – now down to a dozen roses – close to her nose, breathing in the perfume. "Hopefully the rest of the night will be wonderful, too…" Her eyes widened. "I…I mean, I'm…looking forward to…dinner…"

A knot tightened in his stomach. "Sweetie, you're…happy about all this, aren't you? You're comfortable with everything that's going to happen tonight…"

"Dad, please don't!" Christine had the sudden urge to pull her veil over her face. "I'm _perfectly_ comfortable with…it. So you don't have to…yeah. I'm fine." She tapped her feet. "Well, this is embarrassing."

"Well, I'm your father. It's my job to embarrass you." Michael kissed her forehead, as a beeping came from his watch. "Oh, Firouz, I think it's about time…"

"Yes." Firouz began to shake Erik's hand, then thought against it, hugging him instead. "Just remember to relax," he told him. "And things will go just fine."

"Did I _ask _for your advice? And let go of me."

"Of course." He stroked his beard. "Well, thank you for inviting me. I do hope to be back. That is, if you'll allow me that?"

Erik shrugged. "I suppose so. It _was_ good to see you again. Thank you…friend."

Firouz bowed his head. "You're most welcome. And now, Mrs Rossignol…"

A shiver of delight went through Christine.

"…I had a wonderful day, and I congratulate you both. Promise me you'll do your best to keep Erik out of trouble."

"I promise." Remembering, she put out her hand, undoing the clasp of her bracelet. "Here, this is yours."

"Ah, I thought it looked familiar." Firouz turned to Erik, raising an eyebrow. "I've been looking for it…No," he said, as she handed it over, "why don't you keep it?"

"Really? You're sure?"

"Go on. I have no use for the thing, and it does suit you. We'll call it a wedding present."

"Thank you so much!" She fastened it around her wrist again, stroking it lovingly. "And…Thank you for everything. If it wasn't for you, none of this could have happened."

"Hmm?"

"I thought about it, and I realised if you hadn't…well, _arrested_ Erik, then…then I wouldn't be here now. I'd be with him, I guess, but…My dad would still be on his own, worrying about me. So…I guess everything happens for a reason. It worked out for the best."

Firouz's eyes widened, sparkling green. "You're right. Things _have_ worked out for the best…Well, I leave you now. Michael, congratulations again, be sure to keep in touch."

He picked up his cases and packed them into the back of the car. With a wave to them, he drove away into the distance.

Michael held his daughter's hand for a moment, lost in thought. He gave her hand a pat. "Well, I guess you're…having dinner now?"

Automatically, Christine's eyes travelled to Erik. His face warmed her heart. "Mm-hm." She gave her father one last kiss.

His heart lurched. "Erik? Can I…can I talk to you for a second?"

Erik went to him dutifully. _There's only one thing this can be about… _

Michael placed a hand on Erik's shoulder, leaning in close out of Christine's earshot. "Look, I hate asking, but…what are you planning tonight?"

"Only what she's comfortable with."

He sucked in his breath. "Just…look after her. She loves you so much."

"I know. And I love her too much to let anything happen to her."

Christine watched them shaking hands. She felt herself turning red, just imagining what her father was thinking. "Well…goodnight, Dad…"

"Goodnight, sweetie. Take care."

With that, he went inside. Christine stood with Erik by their own doorstep, looking at the sky. It was still clear and very blue, the sunlight warm on her skin as it was before.

Erik stroked her hand. "Are you ready to go in?"

"Mm-hm."

He unlocked the front door. _Now here's the fun part…_ Erik put an arm around Christine's waist and swept her up into his arms. She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck, covering his mouth and chin with kisses. With a little kick, he shut the door behind them, still holding Christine. Her body was warm, pressing against him with great softness.

Erik set her down gently. "I've always wanted to do that…"

Christine removed Erik's mask, staring at it. "I wish you'd get rid of this."

"Just that one, or all of my masks?"

"All of them. I hate seeing you with them."

"I know." He took the mask from her, putting it aside. "I won't wear them here. This house, this sanctuary…here, it will just be you and me, without anything between us. But outside…I need to be safe."

They stood together in the stillness of their home, hands joined. Neither of them acknowledged it, but there was a wonderful awkwardness between them. Things had changed, and they were well aware that they had so much still to do together, all of it new and exciting. But both of them knew it would take time to get used to.

"So…what's for dinner?" Christine asked.

"Well, I was going to make pasta. Unless you want to skip that, and just go straight to the cake and wine."

"Yeah, cake and wine." She went through to the kitchen with him, about to sit at the dining table, when she remembered her bouquet. "Oh, I need some water for these."

"Water?"

"Mm-hm. So they don't die."

"But they _are_ dead."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, so they don't wither away. At least not for a while. I want to keep them as long as possible."

He shrugged, filling a glass with water for her. "All right. I know they mean a lot to you." He put the remaining roses inside.

Satisfied, Christine sat down at the dining table. Her dress had to be rearranged a little as she did, so she didn't get the hem caught under her shoes. _Wedding dresses aren't that practical, I guess. But I _am_ going to be sad when I have to stop wearing it. _Perhaps she would wear it every now and then, if she wanted to cheer herself up.

Erik placed the cake upon the table, going to get a bottle of wine. "Let's see, what goes with red velvet cheesecake?" The bottles clinked together. "Perfect." He brought the wine to Christine. "This one, I think. It's white, so it doesn't matter if you spill it on your dress."

"Funny." But she held her glass far away from herself as Erik poured the bottle out, just in case.

He gestured to the cake, picking up a knife. "Shall we? Together?"

"Together." Christine took Erik's hand, holding his cool fingers tight as they cut a couple of slices. "Wow, it smells great…" She scooped up some of the cream-cheese frosting, licking it from her fingers and giving a little moan of pleasure. "That's so good."

Erik chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it so much." He took a bite of his own slice, still watching her. _Maybe I should hurry up and eat this…_

"I am. This day's just been perfect."

"So far," he added. "It's going to get better."

Christine stopped chewing for a moment. Her eyes met his, heat rising in her face as she took a sip of her wine. Her smile blossomed.

"You've thought about tonight? What you want us to do?"

She saw how he trembled as he spoke. That was so endearing, she thought. "I love you, Erik. I'm happy to do whatever you'd like. I trust you."

Erik swallowed. "I…I really don't mind what we do. Whatever you're ready for. And I understand if you don't feel ready for…for us to make love tonight. We can wait."

Her eyes welled up with tears. His words were beautiful to her. "I think I'm ready. I'm just a little nervous still."

"I understand. If you're -" They reached for a napkin at the same time, their hands touching again. "I know I'm not attractive, and if you're uncomfortable with us being so…intimate with each other, then I -"

"I'm not uncomfortable, Erik. You're my husband, and I love you. I love how you look…"

"It's different, though. You've _seen_ my face, my hands. You've _touched_ them -"

"Kissed them." She brought his hand to her face, kissing him just over his wedding ring.

"But it's not the same, Christine. It'll be more than just touching _part_ of me. It'll be…_everywhere_, and closer than ever before."

"_Erik_. I don't care about that. Why do you think I would?"

"You're so beautiful, Christine. You deserve so much better than me, and I can't believe you actually…desire me." He doubted the words as they left his mouth. Perhaps she didn't desire him. In his own mind, he couldn't quite comprehend that any woman would really find him attractive, or want to be with him in such a way.

"Of course I desire you." The thought seemed to make the very centre of her being call out to him, wanting to hold him close. "I don't fear being intimate with you. I love you, every part of you. And I just feel so fortunate to be with you now. I can hardly believe that I'm the woman who gets to love you. I get to be your wife, I get to be the mother of your children, I get to be _with _you, forever." Christine sipped her wine, lost in her thoughts. "Finish your cake. You like it, don't you?"

"It's lovely." He picked up the remaining half of his slice. A dollop of frosting fell from the top, back onto his plate, and he rolled his eyes at it as he ate the cake. "Too much icing, I think," he said between mouthfuls. "It's trying to escape."

She snorted. "You can't have too much icing." An idea sprang into her mind. _Dare I? _She intercepted the fallen frosting before Erik had a chance, scooping it up on one finger as before.

Erik shrugged. "Have it, if you want."

Christine shook her head. "Open your mouth."

"Oh…" He did so, closing his eyes in contentment as he licked the icing from her fingers, savouring the taste of her skin.

She grinned. "More?"

"Please. I'm very much enjoying this game."

She fed him the remainder of frosting from his plate, then picked up a swirl of cream-cheese from another slice.

"See, that's just a waste of cake, now. Who's going to eat a slice with half the frosting missing?"

"I'll eat it later. Maybe for breakfast. I think I'll be eating just cake for a while."

"Suit yourself." He ran a slender finger over the slice. "Your turn. Close your eyes."

She did so, opening them suddenly when she felt Erik smear the icing onto her cheek in a little gooey heart shape. Her lips pursed. "You're going to pay for that." Frosting was scooped up, as Erik darted to the other side of the kitchen. Her aim wasn't bad, but the icing was too sticky to fly from her hand properly, most of it ending up on the floor in front of her.

"Well, that was just awful. Anyway, don't. It would really ruin this suit."

She sighed. "Fine, fine, I'll stop."

"Good." Erik returned to her, kissing the frosting off of her cheek. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. It was just so funny seeing you with -"

The whole slice of cake was pushed into his face, crumbs of red velvet falling to the ground. Erik wiped his eyes, staring at the floor. "Well, I think it's fair to call that slice ruined."

Christine kissed him, clearing his face with a napkin. "Oh, _I'm _sorry. I just couldn't resist…"

"Mm-hm." He kissed her back, unable to be annoyed with her. "I think it's in my nose…"

"What nose?"

"You know what I mean…" Erik's arms wrapped around her. Every kiss tasted sweet. He deepened the kiss, holding her tighter, finally forcing himself to break away. "Shall we go upstairs?"

"Erik…" She let him pick her up again, cuddling into his chest as he carried her. _This is it…_

He took her upstairs, his mind hazy. _Is this really happening? My wife…_ None of it seemed real. Reaching the bedroom, he sat Christine gently down on the bed, kissing her again as passionately as he could. _I know I could never be worthy of her, but I'll try my best to love her as she deserves to be loved._

Christine pulled away from him slightly, her breathing coming quickly. "Erik, can I…just go get freshened up?"

"Of course, my dear. Take all the time you need."

Inside the en-suite bathroom, Christine got rid of her jewellery and fake hair, and stepped out of her dress, leaving only her wedding and engagement rings. She showered quickly, drying herself with a fluffy towel. It was all just a routine, no different from getting ready in the morning. _Let's see…Deodorant, perfume…shave, shave, shave. _She was moving so fast, rushing to complete one task after another, hardly remembering the reason behind it all. It occurred to her that she had just showered and was about to put the same underwear back on, but she wasn't bothered by it. _I doubt it'll matter, for all the time I'll have them on. And I am _not _walking out there completely naked. _

She stood in front of the mirror, inspecting herself again. Earlier, she had decided she looked beautiful and elegant; now, she couldn't stop blushing. _Do I really suit this? I'm sure I'm the wrong shape for it all…_ But no, she couldn't think that way. _Erik wanted me to wear this, and I'll wear it. _

Christine tried to steady herself as she opened the bathroom door. Her limbs didn't seem to be connected to her body anymore. She couldn't feel the carpet beneath her bare feet, as if she floated like a ghost over the floor. Erik had lit candles, little groups of them in every corner, which illuminated the room with a soft yellow glow. Her eyes flickered like the flames, trying to take everything in. There was the bed – _their_ bed – soft and white, with layer upon layer of linen and fluffy pillows.

Erik set down the last of the candles and turned towards her. His voice caught in his throat as he gazed at her. "Oh, Christine…"

The trance broken, she felt herself going red again and raced to the other side of the room for a dressing gown. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't! Give me a minute…"

"That's the fastest I've ever seen you move!" He laughed. "Don't be shy…You look _beautiful_. Just try to relax. I'll go wash the rest of this cake off."

He shut the bathroom door behind him. _Wow. She looks so much better than I imagined her…Maybe I'm dreaming. _As he got undressed, he smiled to himself. _My wife. She's here, she's real, she's really alive, and all mine…_

Water flowed over him, cool and refreshing, helping him think more clearly. Every wish he'd ever made seemed to be coming true. _I get to make love to her, my dear sweet bride…And after tonight, we have the rest of our lives, beginning our family together… _But then he looked down and saw himself, and the disgust rose up in his throat. _God, I'm a mess. She was so beautiful, and I'm just…a hideous freak. _He was in tears as he dried himself off, suddenly afraid to go back through to the bedroom. _When she sees me…no, she won't want to be mine. _

The tips of his fingers traced the embroidered flowers of the wedding dress, hanging there on the back of the door. Erik tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths. The fabric still smelled like her. _She was nervous to show herself to me, too. If she's so self-conscious, despite her beauty, then that means…she wants me to accept her, just the way _she _is. So…she'll understand. And maybe she will accept me as I am._

He applied cologne, shaking again. The way to stop himself trembling, he decided, was to have Christine hold him. _That makes everything better. _Just another reason for him to go outside to meet her. He considered getting dressed again: perhaps it would be easier to take it step by step, one layer of clothing at a time, rather than go out in just his underwear. But that was the coward's way out, he knew. _Christine's been so brave. I have to be, too._

"Christine? Are you ready?" The voice sounded nothing like his own.

"Give me a minute…" A few seconds' pause. "Okay, ready! Come on out."

Erik's fingers stiffened around the door-handle. He used his other hand to force them to work. The door opened at last, and he stood in the doorway, still trembling.

Christine was there, dressing gown now discarded on the floor. Her short hair fell in golden waves, as the candlelight illuminated her body. He saw her wide eyes as she looked him up and down, a smile spreading across her face. "Erik…"

There was one more thing he noticed, his mouth falling open. The bed was scattered with rose petals, stark red against white, each one like scarlet silk. There was no question of where they had all came from, but the dozen headless roses lying in a pile on the dresser confirmed it for him. "Oh, Christine…"

"You like it?"

"They're perfect. Why did you do it?"

She shrugged. "You were right: they were just going to die in the end anyway. This way's better."

"You're not sad to see them go?"

"I was. And then I saw you, and…You're all that matters."

Erik noticed Christine's eyes moving back over his body. He bit his lip. "What do you think?"

"Think of…? Oh…" She reached out, stroking his chest. "You look so handsome, Erik."

Her hands felt warm on his skin. "You don't have to lie to me, Christine. I know I'm not handsome."

"Oh, but you are…"

"I _know _that I'm not. Just…just tell me you can stand to be near me, and I'll be satisfied with that."

There were so many scars on his skin, some of them deep. She ran a finger along each one she found. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him up against her. Every muscle of his body was trembling now. Every bone of his spine, every rib stood out clearly as she touched him. Hands caressed his back, and she felt even more scars, as his breath shuddered against her. "Shhh. Don't be afraid."

"Christine…"

"You are so loved. So loved, my husband. Never doubt that. Never forget that I love you."

His hands gripped at her desperately. He could never let her go, or he would die. "Stay with me."

"Always. I could never leave you."

Both of them were crying, the tears falling onto their bare skin. "Christine, I'm sorry, I…I thought I'd be strong enough for this. Really, I did. I love you so much, and I…I…"

_It's too much for him, isn't it? After all of these years alone, he's not prepared for this. _She kissed him again, this time only lightly, her lips just brushing his. "It's okay, Erik. Like you said, we don't have to tonight…"

"No! No, I _want_ this. I _do_, and I'm just…" His voice faltered. "I'm scared, Christine. I was so worried about _you _being scared, and now…"

With the upmost care, she loosened his hands from where they clutched at her. "There's nothing to be scared of, Erik. I'll look after you, I promise."

In the back of his mind, he almost felt emasculated by her words. _I should be comforting _her_. She would have every right to feel anxious…but how can I be afraid of something so beautiful? _He would find the courage. This was everything he'd always wanted.

"I trust you, Christine," he whispered. His hands reached out to her. Fingers trembled as he unveiled her body, the lace garments falling to the floor. His wife stood there before him, her face serene as calm blue eyes stared back at him. "Oh, Christine…" Erik watched the candlelight as it flickered over her pale cream skin. "You're beautiful. You're not nervous?

"Not anymore." Her face began to go red again as the reality of the situation dawned, but she stayed relaxed. "Your turn." Christine noticed the sweat on his forehead, but remained strong. _He has to do this. _"Do you want me to, or…?"

Again, he knew what the easy way out would be. But he knew he should be brave, and gave her a nod to go on.

Erik closed his eyes. The blood rushed through his veins with such pressure he feared it would burst free from him. This would certainly kill him, but he knew if he dared to move away from her, he would also perish. To have a chance at life, he would have to risk everything and go through a death…

His eyes opened again, as he anticipated her reaction to him. He remembered only too well her fear when she had first unmasked his face; surely she would react the same way upon unmasking his body?

There was no fear. Christine looked at him with love, perfect love. Tentatively, he reached out to her again, wanting to bring her closer, wanting to see if she would accept him. She did, letting him pull her towards him, until they were touching again.

Erik held her warm body to his. The closeness was painful, as if she had pierced him, but he would not die after all. He felt his own heart beating next to hers, pressed against her so tightly that it was like his blood flowed over her. Yet he was alive. "Christine?"

"Mmm?"

"You're ready?"

She kissed him again, brushing away all of his tears. "I'm ready. I love you, my Erik."

"My Christine…" Erik swept her into his arms again, laying her down gently on the bed. He paused. "If I'm being completely honest with you, I have no idea what I'm doing."

Her laughter was like air. She could never judge him. "That's okay! We'll figure it out together, right?"

"Of course. And we have plenty of time to practice."

"Erik…"

"I can't believe we're finally doing this," he breathed.

"No, not 'finally'. This is just the beginning."

As husband and wife, they made love. When it was over they lay together, bodies still entwined as they slept, surrounded by rose petals. Their wedding vows were fulfilled, completed. They were one.

* * *

Five years had passed since their love's consummation, and their love had only grown since then. Like any other Saturday, they spent the day together in the garden behind their home. A picnic was set out in the grass, as they sat resting in the shade of a tree. The birds sang around them, the garden full of roses.

Michael and Firouz sat on the garden bench a few feet from them, deep in conversation, as Michael filled him in on what he'd missed since his last visit. "…I've taken on a couple more students, too."

"Oh, wonderful." Firouz took another bite of cake. "Violin, or…"

"One violin, one viola. So…I'm up to twenty-three students: nineteen violinists, four violists…I might try organising a concert for Christmas."

"Keeping yourself busy…"

Michael laughed. "Yeah, I've missed teaching. Seeing them going from beginner to _Frère Jacques_ in a few months, that's always great. Hopefully get a few taking grade exams once they're…Michael, let go of my shoe!"

The two-year-old squealed, pulling on his laces. Erik got up from under the tree, shading his eyes from the sunlight. "Listen to your grandpa, Michael. Go finish eating your lunch."

Little Michael pointed to the picnic spread. "Cake!"

"Yes, it _is _cake. Finish your sandwiches first, and then you can have some."

His head flicked round, staring at his mother hopefully. She shook her head. "Eat your sandwiches, Mikey."

He pouted, but sat down the grass with a bump, and resignedly took a large bite out of a sandwich.

Erik smiled. "That's a good boy. You can have cake and play later. Just sit with your sister for now."

The little girl stuffed the rest of her food in her mouth, swallowing it down quickly. "I've finished. Can I have cake now, please?" She held her empty plate above her head.

Christine squinted, checking the plate from where she sat. "Oh, well done, Susie! You can have some cake. Let Papa cut it for you, okay?"

Erik kneeled in the grass, cutting her a small slice and setting it down on a plate for her. "There we are, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Papa!" She gave him a kiss, getting his cheek sticky.

"All gone! Cake!" Michael waved his plate in the air, breadcrumbs falling into his blond hair.

Christine gasped in mock surprise. "Oh, well done! Yay!"

Erik gave him some cake, brushing the crumbs out of his hair. "See, you can eat fast when you want to!" As the children ate, he sat back down with Christine in the shade. "And what about you, hmm?" He lowered his head, whispering. "Are you eating up your lunch?"

Christine nodded. "Yeah, she's being good today. Aren't you, Lottie?"

The baby girl lay in her mother's arms, her blue eyes looking up at her. Erik stroked her tiny nose with his thumb. His daughter squirmed, but didn't break away from Christine's breast. "She's so beautiful, isn't she?"

"Mm-hm." Christine studied her youngest daughter's face. Suzanne had inherited Erik's black hair, albeit slightly wavier and far thicker, along with bright blue eyes, like Christine's and her mother's before her. Little Michael had her hair. There had been some debate amongst them about who his light brown eyes had come from: his grandfather Michael or from Erik's mother. Either way they had skipped a generation.

Christine stroked Charlotte's hair. She was still a mystery, her hair too fine to tell what colour it would be, and baby blue eyes that could later change. Christine hoped she would end up with Erik's eyes.

She snuggled closer to Erik, kissing him. "It's such a lovely day."

"Of course it is. We're together."

Susie and Michael pulled on the older Michael's arms. "Come play with us, Grandpa!"

"Gran-na play!"

He patted their heads and stood up. "Okay! Susie, you want to go get the ball?" She ran off on little gangly legs. He gave Firouz a nudge. "Are you playing?"

Firouz scratched his beard. "Well, I suppose. Although I am very out of practice."

Christine watched little Michael kick the ball; it travelled a few inches, and he jumped up and down, clapping his hands. She rubbed Erik's shoulder. "Go play with them if you want. I'm fine here."

He shrugged. "No, I…I don't mind staying with you."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Besides, it'd be three-to-two, then. It wouldn't be fair."

Erik's voice sounded far away and she was concerned. "Are you feeling all right, Erik?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He moved closer, his head resting against her. "I didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

"Really? She was only up once last night…"

"No, it wasn't that…" He rubbed his forehead. "It was just a bad dream. Or a memory, I suppose. It was…I think he was my fourth, fifth, maybe. I remember he put up a fight, kept pulling at the rope, trying to get free. He was…staring right at me, when he died. I just…couldn't get rid of his face last night."

"Mm-hm." The familiar wave of nausea rose up, and she took a deep breath to fight it back down, as she always did. Now it was second nature.

"But it's in the past now." He kissed her, leaning in towards Lottie. "She's sleeping now?"

"Yeah. She's having a little nap." Christine relaxed, glad that the man she loved was with her again. Remembering what Erik had done was painful, but it was worth any pain to be with him.

"Tired from all her warm milk, I suppose." Erik closed his eyes, resting against her. "Listen. You hear the birds?"

"Yeah. They're very pretty."

"I could stay out here forever."

They were silent, listening to the birdsong and the laughter of their children playing. Christine snuggled closer to Erik. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just how lucky I am. After all of my mistakes, I still end up with you, my perfect wife…I wonder…" He held her hand. "I wonder if…If I hadn't taken you that day, do you think we could be where we are now? Say…say I'd met you after one of your shows, asked you to dinner. Do you think you'd have come with me?" The question had bothered him for a while. "Maybe there could have been some other way…"

"Hmm. I don't know…" Her stomach knotted. "If I'm honest…I don't think so. I wouldn't have given you a chance."

He smiled. "You're right. You have to learn to love me…"

"No, Erik." Christine handed Charlotte over to him, letting the sleeping baby lie against his chest. "She's always loved you. Susie and Mikey, too. Since the day they first saw you. In an ideal world…I would have loved you right from the start, like they did." Her lips touched his. "There's nothing wrong with _you_, Erik. You're perfect. It's everyone else who's broken. Over time, people learn to hate."

"You think so? Really?"

"I think you're easy to love. It's just the world that gets in the way." She nodded. "Yeah, I think that's it. And I'm so glad that I got past all that. I've changed so much since I met you, all for the better."

Michael and Firouz sat down in the shade with them, slightly out of breath, as the two toddlers dived onto them, laughing and shouting. Little Michael clambered onto his mother's lap, giggling to himself. "Hey, sweetie!" His t-shirt and shorts were ruffled from running around, and she smoothed them back in place. "Did you have fun?"

"Mm-hm." Restless, he wriggled back out of her grasp and played in the grass, his clothes getting crumpled again.

"But we winned the game." Susie's voice was insistent. "Didn't we, Uncle Frooze?"

"Oh, of course, we won." He gave her a high-five. The new name had rather grown on him. "But then, I am very determined to win."

"Are you going to my birthday party, Frooze?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Susie. I'll be here again next month for that, okay?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Just move here. It'd be a he-…a _heck _of a lot easier if you did, the number of times you visit."

He chuckled. "Oh, you know I'm never going to leave you alone… Perhaps when I retire, I should. That will make me able to bother you more often."

Michael turned to Erik. The baby had woken up again, and was squirming in her father's arms. "Oh, little Lottie…Do you mind if I…?"

Erik handed her over. He felt as if he was handing over a part of his heart.

"Thank you." He stroked his granddaughter's hand, delighted when she grabbed his finger and held it tight. "Such a cute little girl, aren't you? Aren't you? Yes, you are! Yes, you _are_!" Her pink face creased into a smile and she gurgled happily.

Christine smiled too, her eyes filling with tears. Erik noticed her reaction. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I am. It's just such a beautiful day."

Erik embraced her. "The most beautiful…"

They held each other as their children played around them, and the flowers danced in the breeze. As long as they lived, they would be together, no matter what happened. But their love was stronger than death, and therefore would never end.

And so it was, the nightingale and his rose, eternally as one.

* * *

**Guys, for the last time, read and review! I'm a little teary here! I couldn't ask for better readers, and I can't wait to hear what you all think!**

**emeraldphan: Thank you so much! It's a difficult theme to write on, so I'm glad you enjoyed how the chapter turned out. And I'm glad you like Michael! He is a fun character for me to write!**

**KittyPimms: Thanks for both of your reviews! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. A lot of fluff in it, I think, so hopefully you enjoyed it!**

**Phanatic01: I know, I can't believe it's over, either! It's really long, too, novel-length, so a rereading might take some time! You're dedicated! Thanks for the review!**

**Everyonedeserveslove: Thanks! Hope you loved this chapter!**

**xxxxx**


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